Where the Sun Sets  
                 
                                        Chapter 19     

     Chester prided himself in being completely efficient.  Even at his age he felt

neatness counted. Everything needed to be in its place.  No fuss, no muss, organized

to the "T".  So it was no surprise to himself that he broke out into a cold sweat,

when tossing his shirt over the dining room chair, the small wad of paper appeared.

     Nothing was to leave the grounds of the house without expressed written consent,

and or, legally authorized documentation.  So close to retirement and he could lose

it all for this little finger football.  How could he have let this happen?  He

glanced at his watch and sighed dejectedly.  There was not enough time to drive all
 
the way back to the house that evening.  Even if he made it before lock down, there

would still be an explanation needed.  No, it would be best if he waited until his

shift tomorrow.  He could replace it then without anyone noticing.  As he bent down
 
to retrieve the fallen object something about it caught his eye.  He had not noticed

it earlier. 

     Along the inner fold there seemed to be some writing.  He sat himself at the

dining room table and stared intently at the object in his hand.  His curiosity was

getting the better of him. He could sense that it would be just a matter of time

before he opened the wad of paper.  Unfolding it, though could have serious side

effects.  Someone would surely notice it had been tampered with. What if he could not
 
get it folded back the same way again.  Why did he have to bring this damn thing home
 
with him?  He had gone back to the records room with the intent of picking it, from

the corner it fell, and putting it back where it had come from.  There was a fire

drill, the wad went into his pocket.  He had no choice at the time but to exit the

building immediately.  He should have returned as soon as the building was cleared,

but he had forgotten all about it.  Like so very many things these days.  His memory
 
was going.  His age was catching up with him.  "Harold was to blame for this.'

Chester thought to himself.  If only he had retrieved the item himself. After all it

was Harold who flicked the wad into the corner in the first place.  "Harold, the poor
 
guy looked so worn down.' Chester glanced at the wad.

  
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