Untitled (for the moment)
The door opened and MacGyver trudged wearily into the hotel room. Closing the door behind him, he dropped his leather portfolio on the table and slumped into the overstuffed chair by the window. It had been a long day and he was tired, having just finished the last leg of an eight-week assignment as a consultant to the EPA to help them review some of the technical aspects of the selection process for toxic and nuclear waste disposal contractors. Paperwork was far down on his list of things he liked to do, as was flying to different parts of the country several times a week to review records and sit in on dull meetings with people from the various organizations involved. More often than not, he had been required to drive to some of the nearby sites to observe things first hand, and after the first few visits, even that became tedious. He had written reports until he thought he would go cross-eyed, and was glad it was almost time to go home.
MacGyver sighed and got up from the chair and peered hopefully into the tiny refrigerator. Like most of the days for the last few weeks, he had missed lunch, and as a result was ravenously hungry. After choosing a ridiculously overpriced apple, he dialed his home answering machine, only to find that the lone message was from a computer trying to sell him replacement windows.
It had been three weeks since his son had called. Sam was in New York working on a photo essay about the contrast between life in the city and life in the more rural parts of the state. He had called frequently while he was working in the quiet farm towns, but had only called once from the city, where there was obviously a lot more to keep a young man occupied. Sam would definitely call him tomorrow, though, MacGyver thought with a tired smile. He wouldn't forget his father on his birthday, would he?
To be continued...
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