Face was staring straight ahead; breathing hard and frozen with fear.
"Do we have a problem?" Hannibal asked, hands on hips and cigar between lips.
"We don't have no problem," B.A. said, "but Faceman sure look like he do."
"Well, Lieutenant?
Face didn't reply. He felt the sudden urge to run the other way, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from what stood before him.
Murdock waved his hands in front of Face's eyes. "Earth to Faceman...come in Faceman."
Face started to tremble slightly. "I can't," he gasped. "I can't go in there."
"What you talkin' about, fool?"
Face lowered his head and bit his lip. How could he tell them his fear? Why of all places, did they have to come here to meet their new client?
Hannibal was starting to worry; he hadn't seen Face this shaken up in a long time. He put his hand on Face's shoulder and said, "What's wrong?"
Face looked up at the large building and felt sick. He leaned over and put his hands on his thighs trying to stop the nausea.
Murdock and B.A. looked at Hannibal, who could only shrug his shoulders.
Face was still leaning over trying to breathe. "So scared...I...I..."
"Why don't you sit down for a minute," Hannibal suggested.
Face looked up at the Colonel and nodded before lowering himself down to the curb.
"What you scared of, man?" B.A. asked.
"They sell..." Face took a shuddering breath trying to pull himself together. "They sell polyester clothes in there."
Murdock shook his head in amusement; sometimes he wondered if Face wasn't the crazy one.
"It's called a Thrift Store, Face." Hannibal pointed toward the building, "and if we don't go in there and meet our client we will have no money and will be doing our shopping here."
Face sighed and stood back up. "Okay, let's go…but if any of you try to get me near a pair of bell bottoms, I'm outta there!"
"Deal," Hannibal grinned. "I love it when a plan comes together."
Face took a deep breath and stepped inside; it was time to face his fear.
The End