Spies Like Them (Part One)

Real spies never look like spies.  I should know . . . I used to be babysat by some.

Seriously.

They were family friends, and to look at them, they were a couple you probably never would have looked twice at.  He was a little on the small side, quiet and quirky about eating vegetables (corn was the exception because it wasn’t green) . . . and had about as many different sets of identities (complete with paperwork) as some people in this debt happy country have credit cards.  Oh, and apparently he was quite skilled at what might discretely be referred to as “defensive and offensive driving.”  She was outgoing, funny, and even a little audacious.  She was in addition, I’m told, an absolute master of the arts of surveillance.

These were the people my parents left me alone with so they could have a nice night out, and yes, my parents knew they were spies.

I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.


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