There was a flaw in the design, he was sure of it. He had gone over the notes and plans for weeks, trying to find out where the flaw was, but like a fly buzzing around his head, it kept avoiding him. He rubbed his sore temples and glanced at the clock.
1:45. . .great.
He shut down his computer and gathered up his notes, wondering if he will find some place open on the way home that sold aspirin. A voice command wearily spoken activates the rest of the office shut down as he leaves. He walks to the door, waving goodnight to an equally weary security guard. At least he was doing something productive, he thought. The night air was warm, sticky. A fine film of sweat had formed on his skin in the five seconds it took for him to leave the building to noticing. He sighed deeply, taking in the wilted flower stench that always seemed to be outside the door and headed to his car.
He was never sure where the man was hiding, and if he had to admit to himself something, he would have had to admit the man did a heck of a job hiding where there was no cover. The fight didn't last long, lasting about as long as a fifty-something scientist versus a twenty-something thug could last. He wasn't even sure if a single blow landed on his attacker, but he was damn sure that most landed on him. As he hit the pavement, his glasses flew off, skidding across the parking lot. He felt his body become almost weightless, though he was unable to move. He could feel his pockets being turned inside out and thought, with a smile, that the assailant better like the dollar menu at McDonald's. As he felt a warmth coat his face, he noticed the security guard watching from the door. He felt the warm, sticky air get even stickier and thicker. He watched the guard's face look at him, seeing the tears streaming down that poor old man's face. After that, he saw nothing.
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