Can You Keep a Secret

I am the sole observer of an international ruse. 

While stuck in traffic Saturday I tried to memorize other people's license plates and, occasionally, looked to see what air fresheners were hanging from their rear view mirrors. In the truck next to me there was an older man wearing a blue windbreaker, and while he didn't have air fresheners he did have a whole stack of papers in his back window that flipped and flopped with the breeze. The flopping kept catching my attention, but each time I looked I'd accidentally make eye contact with him. When our eyes would locked we'd smile slightly, nod, and then pretend to change the radio station. After the fourth or fifth time I felt really sheepish so I turned to look out my other window. I noticed Burger Supreme on the corner and decided to watch people walk in and out of it's doors instead. 
While I was looking I suddenly noticed a man step out of his car a few feet away from the front doors of the restaurant. He stood up, looked around suspiciously, and then lifted his coat slightly to adjust his belt. I thought he was just pulling up his pants when I caught a glimpse of something under his coat. All of a sudden I saw it clearly.


A gun was tucked into the back of his pants. 


I stood up straighter in my chair and leaned over the passenger seat to see better. He quickly adjusted the gun behind his belt and then pulled his coat back down. He turned to look behind him and then stuck his hands into his pockets. 
Another man then stepped out of the car. This one stretched his arms up over his head, yawned, and wiped at his mouth. 
The gunman then scratched the back of his neck and pointed at Burger Supreme. A second later he suddenly put a hand to his ear. He looked down, nodded, said something into his coat, and then motioned toward the restaurant with his head. They both locked the car doors and walked inside. 
I stared at their car for a second before leaning back into my seat. When I looked to see if anyone else had noticed I made eye contact with the man next to me again. 
He smiled, nodded his head slightly, and scooted his truck forward.


Oh my gosh, I thought to myself. They're probably undercover cops. They're on some Drug Lord's trail and they need a bit of beef to tide them over.


I looked back at the restaurant. 
After five minutes, I decided to memorize their license plate too. Just in case.
When traffic started moving again I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. 

Best to let them do their thing, I suppose.

I wish I could have talked the whole thing over with my traffic neighbor. He would have given good advice, I think.

"Write the whole thing down," he'd say. "Write it all down and throw it into the back of your car."

"Won't it get lost back there?" I'd say. "Shouldn't I talk to the police or something?"

"Oh, no," he'd smile. "Trust me."

And I would. Because he had kind eyes.

Making eye-contact seven times really reveals the inner workings of a person's soul.