The greenhouse was his sanctuary.
He had quiet. He had solitude. And most important of all, he had an unobstructed view of his surroundings. Critical for a most wanted man.
It also gave him peace of mind. Watering his beloved African Violets was the most rewarding part of his day. Hardly award-winning, but he didn’t care. They were his lone responsibility and he embraced it with open arms.
It wouldn’t last forever though.
He heard the helicopter first, hovering directly overhead.
He saw the agents next, closing in, automatic rifles drawn.
Would they catch him today?
He hadn’t decided yet.
The Weekday One Hundred 