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A Bad Idea 130

David felt like he was flying through a haze. Looking down at Boca Raton, he didn’t know where he wanted to fly too.

He also knew he didn’t want to land.

He often got like this, when waking up in someone else’s bed. It felt like waking up where you didn’t belong.

Could the same thing be said for waking up in a coffin?

David flew for quite a while, making circles, zigging in this direction and that. But eventually — after an hour or two — he grew tired. That’s when he landed.

He was tired enough to not notice the cop, who pulled his gun.

“David?” the cop said.

David turned around and saw the man holding the gun. He wasn’t a particularly big-looking guy. In fact he had a lot of small features: beady blue eyes, small nose, bony arms and legs. But David couldn’t figure out why he bothered to notice that.

It wasn’t like he was a bad guy. It wasn’t like David was about to fight a cop.

He raised his hands.

The cop nodded. Usually he wouldn’t pull a gun on a guy so quickly, but you could never be too sure with superheroes. They broke things so damn easily. It was better to be safe.

“Do you know where you are?” the cop asked.

“Boca Raton,” David said.

“You know what year it is?”

“2015.”

“People’ve been looking for you. Why’d you break out of the hospital?”

“I was confused,” David said.

The cop accepted that. He holstered the gun.

“Come with me.” He grabbed onto David’s arm.

“I’m not a bad guy,” David said.

“I know.”

“Then why’d you pull a gun on me?”

“I know you’re not a bad guy,” the cop said. “Come with me to my car. We’ve gotta drive you back to the hospital.”

The two of them walked a block, past a few shops. It was so embarrassing to be walking with a cop like this.

David wondered if they thought the two of them were working on a case together. Yeah, that comforted him. The people around him didn’t know the cop was taking him in. They didn’t know he needed a damn police escort to stay in a damn hospital bed.

He tried to get into the passenger seat of the cop car. He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand, unable to believe how stupid and awkward he was being.

He tried to flash a charming smile at the officer. It didn’t work.

He got into the back seat of the car. The cop pulled out of his spot and drove towards the hospital.

“Your mother missed you, you know.”

“My mother,” David said, feeling a sharp pang at the thought of having hurt her. He slammed his fist into the back of the chair. He broke through the upholstery. A bit of foam poured out of the seat when he slipped his hand away.

The cop didn’t say anything. He kept his breaths slow and steady.

David didn’t realize why that was such a problem.

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