This afternoon, I was asked to visit a friend in the hospital. I wasn't warned that the friend was in a "locked ward" - meaning, those humans they are afraid will pull a runner before they're cured.
There was a tense moment when I was afraid they might not let me leave the locked ward. I could feel the walls closing in - the door seemed to be growing -- but, then a kindly lady found a key and let me free.
Then, this afternoon, I find that another friend has suggested that perhaps I consider fleeing to Canada if my cover here should be blown. How very considerate. What's more, this friend passed along a handy manual for becoming Canadian.
Just as a back up plan, I am studying the manual, picking up lingo, will be test driving (oooh bad choice of words) the national drinks, learning curling and hocky, etc. Oh, and, according to the manual, there might be work for me in Canada as a "peeler". I have three peelers, so, I should be all set.
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