He had the special permission slip in his pocket, though controls were rare they were not cheap, and an unfamiliar sense of elation pumping through his body. It was an unusual day during this dark time, allowing him to leave the house and head for the office. Courtesy of the cold weather, not the successful efforts to flatten the curve of a tedious pandemic, he found himself heading for public transport instead of the car (let’s call it another win for nature).
He was only a couple hundred meters from his front door when a group of men in blue uniforms stood before him. Their faces, though masked, had concern written all over them.
Great, that was quick, he thought already rummaging with his hand through the left coat pocket. Just his luck that the improbability of a control would shatter right outside his home.
“Sir,” one of the officers said firmly, ignoring the piece of paper his addressee was holding, “could you please turn around and walk around this building from the other side? This section is currently inaccessible to the public.”
“Hum, sure,” he replied knitting his brows puzzled. As he turned away, he couldn’t help but glance past the agent and look directly at a lifeless body, partly covered in an old blanket, stretched over the pavement.
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