An ill omen… It was as if the visible parking cones in the middle of the spiral ramp were an ill omen. Leander frowned as he slowly approached the security guard watching the cones. Even without a word, the guard jogged to the driver's side.
With an apologetic smile, he said, "Good morning, Mr Wentworth! Uhm, one of the freight vans dropped a heavy object on the ramp when it turned last night. I think it's an oven? Something of that size and weight, at most. Uh, the asphalt guys will be arriving shortly. They'll fix the pothole in no time! Please take care in making the turn."
"I'll get the full report from someone else. Continue watching the hole. Also be vigilant of cars coming from the other side." Leander snorted at the inconvenience. After all, his big car might hit one cone.
