Chapter Three #3
At Massachusetts Avenue he turned south and ran on the sidewalk of the busy street that was beginning to come alive with traffic.
He then turned east and continued along the trail of Southwest Corridor Park before reaching Titus Sparrow Park and weaving his way back to his apartment.
Nate conducted a few cool-down stretches outside as the street was starting to wake up, waving at the occasional neighbor walking past. He knew many by sight and some by name but had not made any significant attempts to establish a meaningful relationship with any of them.
He had been distracted by his studies, and remained distant in his personal interactions.
When Nate was finished stretching he headed inside and downed a large glass of water in several swigs.
As his heart rate returned to normal he made his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower, giving it time for the hot water to work its way through the old pipes.
The familiar groaning noises rang out as the water began to run hot.
Nate peeled off his sweat-soaked running gear and examined himself in the mirror.
He was nearing his mid-thirties, though you wouldn’t know it by his high level of fitness.
Even though he was one of the older students in the doctoral program, he was easily the most fit.
He exercised consistently, a habit that had stayed with him from his days in the army.
He ran several days a week, lifted weights, supplemented with cross-training circuits, and even competed at a local mixed martial arts gym.
Physically, he hadn’t lost a step. But his age showed in his eyes.
And in his scars. He had been shot three times, two occurring at the same time in Yemen.
He’d also taken shrapnel on two separate occasions, which resulted in a few injuries and the stiff scar tissue that came along with them.
None showed when he wore pants and short sleeves, which he was grateful for, not wanting to have them become conversation starters.
The rare times that the former soldier had shared his experiences, he had instantly regretted it.
People spoke to him in soft tones, seemingly attempting not to offend him.
There was pity in their eyes and gratefulness in their words, neither of which Nate was looking for.
The shower had heated up enough for him to hop in and wash up.
He stood under the stream for a long time, letting the hot water run over his body.
So often he had been forced to take cold showers, fast showers, or no showers at all, and it was something he now enjoyed immensely.
After twenty minutes, the water began to run cold and Nate stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He walked over to the sink, grabbed a razor, and shaved the stubble off his face, slightly nicking himself on the chin.
He winced, less from pain and more from embarrassment that he would be going in today with a cut on his face.
In the Special Forces he had not been required to shave often, and it was not something he was particularly good at.
Nate rinsed the shaving cream off his solidly set jaw and ran a comb through his straight brown hair.
He kept it longer, as he had done in the Special Forces, with tufts of hair tucked behind his ears and reaching to the base of his neck.
Finally, he paused and looked at himself in the mirror, staring into his forest-green eyes.
They were hard set. They had seen a lot.
He reminded himself of that as he dressed in a blue Joseph Abboud suit, complemented by a lighter blue patterned tie, a pair of brown leather Samuel Hubbard shoes, and a matching brown belt.
Walking over to his nightstand he picked up his Omega Seamaster Planet Ocean 600M diving watch.
It had a black face with orange accents and orange numerals, and he switched out the black-and-orange nylon strap for the stainless-steel bracelet he used for formal occasions.
Nate had purchased the watch after graduating from the Special Forces Combat Diver Qualification Course, widely considered one of the toughest schools in the army.
It had been his present to himself for making it through the rigorous training, and he’d worn it on dozens of dives since, though it paired nicely with a suit and tie as well.
It was a finishing touch to his appearance, and he wanted to look sharp today.
Nate walked into the tiny kitchen and turned on an electric kettle before plopping a black tea bag into a mug.
His years in the Middle East had made him more accustomed to tea than coffee, and he found that he preferred the taste.
When the kettle was ready, he poured it over the tea bag and let it steep.
Not only had Nate been to war numerous times, but he had given dozens of briefings to many important people.
As an intelligence specialist he had briefed generals, ambassadors, and congressmen, to name a few.
Each time he was nervous, and each time he had done well.
He’d used the same routine he did today, mentally rehearsing his brief and anticipating the questions his audience would ask.
It had never failed him before, and he was sure it wouldn’t now.
Nate slowly sipped the piping-hot brown liquid, feeling the caffeine course through his body. He was ready. Today was going to be a good day.