Exit the freeway at Georgetown U, drive parallel to the Potomac river until she reached a dead end, park along the crumbly-bricked abutment of a long-demolished bridge, and then wait for Jackson to spot a not-so-candy-white 2012 Jetta with a recently missing front-left hubcap. Not having crossed the river in days, the outing was a nice warm up for her "healthy" return to the office the following morning. That was the irony, it taking fake sick leave for Mira to actually get sick. Something about not eating or sleeping was making her feel like a week-old bucket of dirty mop water. She should be able to handle this. All she'd done was employ an old college trick, spending her nights cross-legged on the living room floor surrounded with books, markers, and loose papers, her back bent over a laptop, her elbow propped on a box of wine. If it was good enough for college... She was obviously getting too old for all-nighters. At least, for three in a row.
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