Headquarters Lost Count

"Morn'n Bean." I joined him on the park bench.

"Hey, Roger."

"Whatcha up to?"

"People watch'n."

"Same as any day, huh?"

"You'd think. I been seeing weird stuff today."

"Like?"

"Folks walk behind that there monument."

"Yeah?"

"They don't come out the other side. Like, they disappear."

"Whur they go'n?"

"No clue. I suppose someone aughta to check."

A black van screeched to a halt. Two guys jumped out with sawhorse barricades.

One said, "How many so far today?"

"Dunno. Headquarters lost count."

They arranged a barricade that read "KEEP OUT" and left.

"Whadaya think that was about?"

"Beats me."

Bean tromped over to the barricade, waved at me, and stepped under. Like last week's paycheck, he was gone.

"Bean?" I yelled.

I moseyed over hesitantly, unimpressed. No Bean. Nothing but muddy footprints. I walked around the whole dang monument twice. I didn't dare slide under the barricades.

After a few minutes, I looked back at the bench. Bean was sitting there with the biggest grin you ever seen.

I eased back onto the familiar old park bench and yawned.

"How long was I gone?"

"Oh, 'bout ten minutes or so."

"Felt like forty years."

We never went people-watchin’ again.