Sex and the Security Guard

I found the note on my coat, beneath the bench in the hallway at the Mall of America.

I walk at the Mall, early in the morning, before any stores open. Many of us walk at the Mall, especially in winter. It is warm, there are three rectangular floors with walkways that go all the way around, each about a kilometer long.

There seem to be work crews in the Mall all night long, remodeling, repainting, changing decor, repairing the escalators, and doing everything best done when the public is not there. There are, also, security guards, especially since 9/11/2001.

In winter, it is very cold outside the Mall, so one either takes off one's winter coat and leaves it in the car, or takes it in, where there are rental lockers or, increasingly, a number of us who leave our jackets--usually chosen for their ratty, not-worth-stealing look, on a bench or on the floor. I found the note on my coat, on the floor.

The note looked improvised. I turned it over.

The security guard obviously did not have a tablet of official notices. He has a book due at the Hennepin County Library on February 5th, though.

I suppose things get a little slow, overnight, while keeping us safe from terrorist attacks.

I suppose it might not have been a security guard. Maybe it was just a concerned, sex-starved citizen lurking over there by the lockers.

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