He awoke. He looked at his numerous clocks, all of which said 5:30 AM. He performed his obsessively precise morning routine: shower at 5:34, breakfast of two eggs over easy, two pieces of lightly buttered white toast, and two pieces of bacon, slightly crisped at 5:53, and out the door at 6:02.
As he walked the 37 steps down the sidewalk out to his dull green car, he thought to himself:
"if they ever realized these server eccentricities about time of mine, I am surely done." Nevertheless, he reassured himself that such a thing could never happen.
As his outstretched hand was about to insert the key into his car door, he noticed a large group of men running towards him from the corner three houses down the street. They knew. He quickly ran back into his house and went out the secret back door. The other side led around to an abandoned building in which there was another car.
Drawing near to it, he pulled out another key, got in, and drove off.
He was so involved in thought that he did not notice the three black official looking cars following or the road block three blocks away. His imagination was so alive that he did not fully understand what was happening, as if he was in a dream. He was caught.
Sitting there in his holding cell, he slowly gazed around the dimly lit square of blandness. He became disappointed after realizing that the room had not one clock, and thought longingly of the four that he had sitting on the nightstand by his bed. As he peered through the narrow spaces between the metal bars, a group of four men came down the narrow hall. In unison, they stopped abruptly in front of his cell. After...