The Next Morning

The early morning light slowly brings you awake. Stretching, you climb out of bed and straighten up, throwing on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before trudging off to the kitchen in search of sustenance.

As you move down the short hallway, you wonder about the practicality of your purchase. Sure, the Galaxy Labs brochure looked fantastic, but was it really a smart decision? The sales rep promised that your life would be changed beyond recognition, and for their asking price it most certainly should. The realization that you are not alone in your kitchen brings your early-morning musings to a screeching halt.

Leaning against the counter is a woman, decked out in what appears to be an expensively tailored black suit, her short brown hair professionally styled. Her gaze is hidden behind reflective lenses, giving you no clue as to why she might be standing in your kitchen, drinking a mug of coffee.

Noting your presence, she reaches into her jacket pocket and produces a leather billfold, which she promptly flips open, displaying her credentials. The CIA identification is very prominently displayed.

"G-good morning?" you barely manage, your voice catching at the unexpectedness of the situation.