Scenes Thursdays:

Jared leapt atop the pallet of the warehouse, bullets ricocheting off the concrete floor. He swore to himself and hugged his satchel closer to him. He crouched down and took a moment to breathe, hidden by a crate from Turkey. He grabbed a gun from inside his satchel, taking a moment to caress the black lacquer box beside the gun, and then pulled it out. He took aim and saw a shadow move across the warehouse and fired.

Blood sprayed across the wall and there was a scream, then a thump. Jared let out a deep breath. It was over. He stood up and removed his fedora. idiots had been wanting the satchel; his misdirection had worked. He peeled back the band on his fedora and pulled out the object of his adventure.

The 1928 stamp celebrating Amelia Earhart’s first Atlantic trip, incredibly rare, peered back up at him. He smiled at it, but then faltered. A red smudge under his thumb smeared across Amelia’s proud face, and Jared swore and dropped it. A thin line of blood ran down his thumb to drip off the tip, ruining the precious stamp.

He realized his vision was burry. A dart stuck out of his jacket- must have hit an artery. And must have been tipped with a numbing agent. And, as he crumpled to further ruin the priceless stamp, he realized it must have been poison tipped, too.

Tune in next week to find out the fate of: JARED THOMAS: PHILATELIST