I looked down an empty hall in the Convention Center, because he likes those. I looked down another, even more secluded hall in the Convention Center; I also looked behind the recycling bin at the end of that hall. I looked around the counter of the jambalaya place at Reading Terminal Market (“I love jambalaya!” Lincoln has said, I think). I even looked under the Liberty Bell.
Is it possible that he got caught up in a still life photography class, or perhaps a gradient puzzle, and lost track of time?
I am becoming desperate.
This has been Looking for Lincoln, a series in which I look for Lincoln Chafee. If you know where Lincoln Chafee is, please email me. (For more of this journey, follow us on Snapchat at jezebeldotcom)
