Charlie sits on a bench reading a Better Homes and Gardens magazine and eating a tunafish sandwitch. Her eyes skim an article on decorating your home in a designer furnature style but without spending the outragieous amount of money designer furnature would cost. How some women can even read this drivel and take it seriously, Charlie can't imagine.
She glances up as she takes a bite of her sandwitch and watches the man three benches down from her. He too is sitting and having a quiet lunch in the park. He is wearing a dark blue pin striped business suit and a white shirt with a tie two shades lighter then the jacket. He had left his office, walked down the street to the hot dog stand, bought a hot dog with all the fixings, and carried it to the park. Now he seems to be trying to figure out how to eat the hot dog without getting it all over his suit. Should have remembered to grab napkins back at the stand but not all business types have the luxury of common sense.
Her interest is in the briefcase sitting on the ground near his feet. She'd gotten a call two days ago to collect the briefcase and drop it off at another location. There she would pick up her fee for the job and maybe actually be able to pay next months rent. It is a small job and entirely beneath her level of skill but the person who wanted the case is willing to pay a lot of money for it, so why not?
The tunafish sandwitch isn't too bad for being bought at the same hot dog stand. She was pleased to learn they sold more then just the links of condensed mystery meat. Charlie is not a fan of hot dogs.
She'd followed the man for the last day or so, learning his habits, his lunch schedule, and his route in and out of the park. How anyone could possibly eat the same type of hot dog everyday is beyond her but whatever creams his twinkie.
She sets the magazine aside and wipes her hands off with a napkin. Standing, she picks up another briefcase identical to the man's, tosses the wrapper of the sandwitch and the magazine in the trash and makes for the man's bench. Her blue skirt suit is about a shade or two lighter then the man's tie and the skirt is about two inches shorter then it probably should be but it was designed to get the male sex's attention when in the office. Most of the time it worked.
She walks past the man's bench and makes her way around the corner, stopping as if to fix one of her heels. She lifts up her leg behind her and looks back down at the heel as if there is something wrong with it. She frowns and her eyes flick back up to the nearest bench where Mr. Hot Dog sits still fighting with his food. She takes off the shoe, bending the heel backwards as she does so and makes her way slightly limping toward the bench.
"I'm so sorry, can I borrow this side of the bench? I seem to have broken my heel." She holds up the offending shoe with an apologetic smile.
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