It would be impossible to identify the building. A black rectangle was superimposed over most of the sign in front, revealing only the word “clubhouse.” The people emerging from it had black rectangles hiding their faces, or the top part of the face. Two of the women coming out paused for a moment and embraced, and close up it could be seen that one had tears streaming from beneath her black rectangle.
From inside the car we could see one of the women approaching. She slid into the driver’s side. We could see in the back seat that her bag was packed. Her shoulder bag, half open on the front seat contained a couple of devices and a manila file folder with papers. She drove. We could see her black rectangle and the periphery of her face in the rear view mirror.
For a few seconds we saw her returning the rental car. The attendant didn’t seem to be disturbed by the black rectangle. Indeed, he appeared to be happily looking her in the eye; a courteous, motivated employee.
In the terminal building the woman, tall, determined, advanced, bag on wheels behind, shoulder bag closed and held at her side by an elbow. Suddenly she stopped and we saw the terminal building interior wheel slowly around her and stop in front of a bar. Happy people sat at the bar drinking and talking. We saw the woman’s face. We saw the black rectangle disappear, revealing Susan.
Copyright (c) 2016, William J. Spurlin, all rights reserved.