Why did he always seem to be in more of a rush to get someplace on his day off than during the week? You’d think working as a bike messenger would drain the rush right out of him. “Daniel Gate Never Late” was a nickname for a while. He was glad it never really caught on.

“Damn!”, he exclaimed as he stumbled, dropped his cell phone and kicked it down the sidewalk. It bounced once, and stopped against a lamp post with a metallic thump.

As he bent down to pick it up, he noticed a little blue arrow painted at the base of the post right beside where his phone was laying. He would have thought nothing of it had it not been painted so precisely.

There was something written below it in perfect block letters so small they almost looked like a line. He had to lean way over and squint to read what it said:

DANIEL GATE FOLLOW ME