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Death cab for Marvin


Tonight featured a harrowing high-speed thrill-a-minute ride through some of the worst neighborhoods of Denver, courtesy of a hack driver who was probably fresh off the boat from Karachi. He spoke little English, and I’m fairly certain he couldn’t read the map, or at least he seemed to be ignoring it. After several mad dashes through dark and shuttered neighborhoods to drop off various people whom I decided I should not have shared a van with, the driver hurtled up, down, and across several downtown streets, including one that is closed to vehicles.

At that point, I decided to stop watching and start praying. I waited, eyes closed against the blur of buildings and homeless people speeding past, for the driver to call out my stop.

Finally he did. And now I am safe. Safer, anyway, in my hotel room.

It has been a tough couple of weeks at work. An ancestor of a fellow agent died, so I must shoulder his work too. I don’t see how it can be done, but I’ll make a show of trying. Either way, the project is over in two months. Training starts in two weeks, however, and we are racing to complete materials in time for training.

We’ll see if it happens.

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