"It's time to go" she said and I said "go hell I just came". We both laughed and we went on our way.After the pre-op stuff I was laying on a gurney and Betty was at my side. The nurse was checking my vitals and she commented if I was feeling OK and had I taken any d**gs in the last 24 hours. I said no and she had a look of disbelief. Betty also commented and asked the nurse if there was a problem. "Well", the nurse said, "normally when people are having surgery their BP and heart rate are elevated. His is as normal as I have ever seen. Can you explain that to me please?"Before I got a word out, Betty told her how much I trusted the doctor and was so looking forward to being pain free. As she started squeezing my hand as hard as she could, everything started to rise a bit and as she backed off it all came back to normal. I just looked at the nurse and said "yea, what she said." and shut up.They gave me the knock out stuff and I was wheeled back into surgery. I was sitting in what I. Her hands were sticky, and she wiped them free of tree sap against her black robes. She waited a long time. Most of the lights in the houses were already out for the night as she ate a simple meal of sticky rice wrapped in seaweed. From time to time a car came down the lane, but each time her earpiece crackled with the information that the vehicle in question was not her target’s car. She wore no timepiece but knew the hour was very late. Many a time as she waited she considered meditating, but rejected the idea, wanting to remain fully alert. Two pinpricks of light appeared in the distance, enlarging as the car approached. This time it was him. She rolled her head, loosening her muscles. The car pulled up to the house, not coming up the drive, but taking the spot by the curb. This came as no surprise to her. Hours before she had watched as Marshall’s parents returned home, the vehicle, piloted by the father slipping in next to another one in the two car garage. Her body tensed as.
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