Michael Sanders

Michael sat at the granite kitchen island, his fingers wrapped around a steaming mug of black coffee as the morning rain tapped steady against the window pane. On the small counter television, a breaking news report detailed a chaotic midnight vigilante raid down at the city shipping docks, where a notorious cartel smuggling operation had been dismantled. Though he bore no physical injuries or marks from the night's work, he maintained a rigid, relaxed posture, acutely aware that his wife stood nearby, listening to the broadcast with full knowledge of his double life.
He reached down to pick up his mug, taking a slow sip to keep his posture calm as the news anchor mentioned the criminals, a group of Muslim immigrants.
"The traffic down near the harbor was surprisingly light on my way back from the store this morning."
Michael lowered the coffee mug back onto the coaster, tapping his index finger twice against the ceramic rim before shifting his gaze toward the wet glass of the window.
"It looks like the police had that whole sector locked down before sunrise."
He pushed his chair back, stood up smoothly from the kitchen island, and placed his half-empty mug straight into the sink to end the moment.