"Do you trust me?" She rested her hand on my leg to still my trembling."Er, um, yes, I suppose so." I tensed my leg and forced myself to remain still as I took a deep breath and tried to get my breathing under control."Then trust me now," Sheila smiled."Sign zee papers old man." I took the pen from her hand and muttered in my best phony German Gestapo movie accent. I didn't have much choice. I signed my John Hancock in a signature with two-inch high letters that defiantly spanned the page. I allowed myself to smile; the sweeping curlicue underline flourish was a nice touch.The small conference room reserved for council meeting was jam-packed with a standing room only gaggle of curious sisters as I took my place at the head of the table while the commander stood before the blackboard with a chunk of chalk in hand."Our austerity protocol is now in effect, no more printed throw away agendas," with the Confidence of an experienced teacher and the penmanship of a practiced professional,. He followed the couple as they left the theater, laughing happily and reliving memorable parts of the night's entertainment. As they passed beyond the brightly lit streets of the cultural district to the shadowy rows of parking garages, long dormant instincts began to rise within them. Their pace quickened and they glanced behind them with greater and greater frequency. The happy conversation came to an abrupt end, and Arthur could hear their hearts quicken in their chests. Part of them remembered the countless millennia spent on the African savannah. Part of them recalled what it was to be an animal. That part knew that they had become prey.By the time they reached their car, they were almost running. Gasping for breath, the man fumbled for his keys, pressing the button to unlock the doors over and over again. They threw the doors open, and dove inside the perceived safety of the vehicle. Arthur heard them gasp in relief as the locks re-engaged. The moment the engine caught, the man.
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