Ginger woke up the next morning. She was digging through her boxes and unpacking her stuff in her new room at the house. Someone knocked on the door. "Hey, Ginger! It's me, Benson! Can I come in?" Benson said. "Sure, Benson! Come on in!" Ginger replied. Benson walked inside. "Need any help unpacking anything?" "Sure! You can start with that box over there." Ginger said pointing to the box right next to her. As Benson started seaching through the boxes and taking stuff out, Ginger giggled. But she didn't know why she did. "What's so funny?" Benson asked smiling at Ginger. "Oh, nothing. I just that..." "That what?" "Uh... I was just thinking about... How... Don't worry about it. It's nothing." "Uh, oh, okay then." While Ginger was digging through the boxes, she just remembered something. "Benson..." "Yeah?" "There's something I need to tell you-" "Hey Ginger, is this you?" Ginger sighed and looked at the old photo. "Yep. That's me and Sampson." "Who's Sampson?" "He's an old friend of mind that I worked with in the FBI back in the 50's." "You were in the FBI?" "Yep." "That's cool!" Benson said holding Ginger's hand. Benson got closer to Ginger and kissed her. But Ginger didn't like that... "So tell me! What was it like to work in the FBI with this so called Sampson?" Oh, It's a long story..."
TO BE CONTINUED...
TO BE CONTINUED...