“Here is our telephone number if you get lost,” the man said.
“She doesn’t have a cell phone. I can walk…” John insisted.
“No,” the man said, authoritatively. “Take a seat.”
The man watched John behind the bulletproof glass, the glare from his computer screen making him appear like some villain from Batman. You don’t understand, John thought angrily. My mom is sick and I’m NOT incapacitated. When a young woman arrived and began talking to the man about whiskey shots, he stopped staring.

John gazed at the plaque. “Looking toward tomorrow while not forgetting yesterday,” it read. An engraving of people at play under an oak tree made up the rest.

He attempted to look through the reflective glass behind him, but still didn’t see any headlights. There was a swoosh of air. John glanced at the set of double doors expectantly. Nothing. It was just the A/C. A black camera was on the ceiling, rounded at the bottom into the shape of a pupil. He tried to look as normal as possible.

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