I walked into a donut shop and ordered three large Boston Cream Donuts.
I walked out with my bagged prize in hand and munched on the first of my donuts, watching people walk past me down the sidewalk and the shine off the sunlit store windows, and listening to a street mucisian play a few ragged chords on his old guitar.
When I was sure that no one was looking at me (A woman walked past with an upraised, unfurled newspaper, eyes downward as she read), I reached into my pocket, pulled out something round, smooth, and metallic, pressed the switch on the top and threw it low so that it rolled into the middle of the empty street.
There was a loud bang and a flash of blinding white light, accompanied by a massive, gushing stream of oily dark smoke.
People gasped, clutched for their purses, hurried into stores, but I didn't see because I had ducked into a nearby alleyway and was moving quickly.
The sunlight disappeared as I went around a grimy corner and into a dim back street. There was no sound of anyone following me.
But I continued on anyways. I'd get home by another route.
I hoped that the mysterious man in the dark suit wouldn't be able to track me back to my apartment.
