Facing A Hiccup

I turned to Steve, his attitude had pushed me a little too far, and I exploded, “Look, I’m so close to saying screw it and putting you back in the metal box before both our asses become kindling for Angel’s fire. You seem to think proving you innocent is my purpose in life, but you’re wrong, STEVE. I am only doing this because I can’t live with a guilty conscience or the possibility of one!”

I was huffing, trying to gather my breath. Rarely did I snap like that, but my cool mindset had flown over the railing and tumbled down several flights of stairs.

“I don’t know where the guy is, but this was our only hope, Steve, so please, just be quiet and let me breathe.”

He stared at me momentarily and cocked his head before looking at the door marked 2C. I looked, too, and the door was opened with an older man staring at us.

“Mr. Arubergy?”

He nodded and stuck his head out, looking around. “Come in, come in, hurry now,” he said, waving at us to be quick.

“Please remove your shoes. I a