Write four lines of prose about: the agent.
Hauling 14 crates of beautiful peaches to market tomorrow morning, along with lots of tomatoes, berries, corn, and even some garlic.
The forecast is calling for pretty ideal temperatures, so hopefully the crowds respond in kind.
My memories of those first days in the Witness Protection Program are admittedly hazy. There was so much secrecy and commotion, and I always seemed to be surrounded by a whirlwind of people and documents.
But there is one day in particular that I remember with perfect clarity, for it contained a moment that cannot be erased from my mind.
It was the exact second that I realized that I could never trust an FBI agent ever again.