OK, so I had a typical day. The only difference, really, was that I happened to be chatting on Fb to someone during a typical portion of my typical day so I told her about it as part of our conversation. She was so entertained by what I told her that I was reminded, as I haven’t been for a little while, of just how … um … “different” I am.

I quit smoking a little while ago. So I’ve gone from having a half hour lunch break and two 15 minute smoke breaks to having an hour lunch break in the middle of my working day. Sometimes I have no problem filling that with shopping or reading or whatever as well as eating my lunch. At other times, I seem to have excess minutes to take advantage of. Today was one of the latter. I’d finished shopping and still had a half hour left. I didn’t want to eat my packed lunch in the grounds at work so I looked for a likely spot to sit in my car, eat my sandwich, and play a bit on Facebook.

I’d noticed a building that looked vacant. There had been a business sign out front but it had been removed. Near the empty sign holder there is a “for lease” sign. So I pulled into the parking lot, wound down my windows, pulled out my phone and my sandwich, and got comfy.

I was Fb chatting away with a friend and former co-worker in London when I realized the wi-fi symbol on my phone was lit. I must have forgotten to switch off wi-fi when I left home this morning. No big deal. Except that the symbol was orange, which it has never been before. So I was curious. I’m often curious. And I can’t seem to ignore whatever has made me curious. I backed out of Fb and entered settings. I was apparently connected to an unfamiliar wi-fi (which I’m guessing explained the odd color of the symbol). Of course I can’t now remember the name of the wi-fi I was connected to. But I was grateful and felt guilty at the same time. I hadn’t intentionally been stealing someone’s signal. I quieted my guilt by telling myself that they should have secured their service before closing up their business.

Then a truck pulled into the parking lot. It backed into a cargo bay and the driver got out, opened the door of the building and began unloading boxes. I looked around. Just two vehicles in the huge car park of what I’d taken for a deserted building. And of course the overactive imagination kicked in.

I studiously avoided looking at the truck any more while speculating wildly about what was going on to the friend with whom I was chatting. As I saw it, one of two things was soon to happen. Either security was going to exit the building, approach my vehicle, and ask me what the hell I was doing, neither a customer nor an employee, making myself comfortable in their parking lot and free with their wi-fi service. Or the truck driver was going to approach my vehicle with a gun and ask me how much I’d seen.

Yes, I know. Totally unlikely, both. And yet I was still half-expecting someone to come over. If the business was still an active one, where had the employees parked? There was something very weird going on here, I was convinced. So, while avoiding being caught actually watching the unloading of the truck, I kept my peripheral vision at alert. There was a lot of empty space between me and the building and, if anyone began strolling in the parking lot, my key would be turned in my ignition and I would be out of there in about 2 seconds flat.

Of course, the friend with whom I was chatting was trying to remain upright in her chair in London while laughing herself silly at my state of alert in Pennsylvania.

While studiously avoiding noticing anything further about the unloading of the truck, I managed to notice a nearby McDonald’s. Even with the windows open, it had gotten quite warm from the Autumn sun in my vehicle. A chocolate milkshake suddenly seemed a necessity before returning to work. So the mystery of the building and all things associated with it disappeared from the forefront of my mind as I drove to the drive-thru for a milkshake. Hence, for several minutes, my friend was left hanging … and apparently wondering if, in fact, I had been accosted in one way or another. When I picked up my end of the conversation again, milkshake half-consumed and back at my desk, she typed to me in rather stern capitals about worrying her like that.

I can only guess that you have to be a writer to understand the way my mind works.