[center][img=http://i1065.photobucket.com/albums/u392/zapkiiten/22031471901pm_e775d_zps5cef3387.png][/center]

[b]”You’re late Charles. Again.”[/b] 

Let it never be said that Gracie lacked a talent for stating the obvious. My supervisor looked up at me from behind a stack of books, her green spiked hair practically glowing under the florescent lights.

[b]”My alarm clock went out,”[/b] I protested.
[b]”Alarm clocks are supposed to auto-sync.”[/b]
[b]”I know. Imagine my surprise when I found out mine didn’t.”[/b]
One green eyebrow raised. It was obvious to both of us that I wasn’t surprised.
[b]”And your watch? You should have it set as a…”[/b]
I pointed to the metallic waste of space on my wrist. [b]”Hasn’t been working since last Thursday. I told you that.”[/b] The statement wasn’t one-hundred percent correct. My watch still functioned as a key, allowing me access to my apartment, and various archival rooms in the library during normal business hours. It also stored my banking information and allowed me to charge directly to my pitiful banking account. Did it tell time? Nope. I’d made the report to the Office of Security. Apparently they had more important things to worry about lately- like finding the responsible person behind the bombing. Next to that, a middle class citizen’s ability to tell the time simply by looking down at their extremities was not very concerning. 
[b]”Right, right…”[/b] she said, her eyes wandering back to the stack of books in front of her, [b]”Well don’t be late again.”[/b] 

I started to walk off. It was Tuesday, my first day of the week (since I worked through Saturday) and chances were good that I’d have a ton of books to sort through and even a few to repair. It was a rare thing indeed for new novels to be published and the old ones were in constant need of repair. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to repatch the cover of “A Midsummer Night's Dream.” Sure we had the digital version, but most citizens couldn’t afford the luxury of that technology. I took all of two steps towards my desk before Gracie called me back again. 

She held out a small white envelope that could have fit easily in the palm of her hand. [b]”Someone left this for you.”[/b]

I took it cautiously. It was completely sealed, and aside from my name scrawled in neat black ink, there was nothing else that stood out. Never the less my stomach was doing summersaults. [b]”Who left this for me?”[/b]

Gracie just shrugged. Her eyes turned back to her computer screen as she continued to scan the barcodes of the books. [b]”They dropped by around the time we opened. I didn’t really catch a good look. You know, if you’d come to work on time…”[/b]

I didn’t wait for her to finish before I started ripping open the letter. I could feel all the blood drain from my face and quickly turned around trying to hide my reaction from Gracie. On the front of the card, decorated with tiny white flowers was scrawled the following “Alley: Pearl & Phillips 7:30”. On the back- [i]We know that you know.[/i] 

My eyes dart around me but everyone seems content to go about their own business. Was this a message from the Rebels? Surely if it were the government they’d have drug me away in chains already.