ceiling, my hands behind my head, thinking of my next move, and that's when

oom. I see my reflection in the mirror. I loo

er to calm my nerves, brush

ap, and dark sunglasses so no one recognizes me. My picture

one, and I see she works at a firm called Ross

er Manhattan, I go through articles about Cass

client after she

woman dies in hand

office is on the fifth floor. I walk to the elevat

. How can I help?" t

Baker; is she in?, it'

to see my face, and gives me

ut if you drop your contact informati

when she'll b

me your name and phone number; she

e time on my phone, thank the recepti

ow how much time I have before the p

t seems to be a thousand pictures, I come across a picture

ood I've been to before wh

ut of time. I hope she's there. This

down. I don't know what I'm looking for, but I keep

street, and my face is red and hot. I would ha

he house from the pictu

when I see a woman unloading groc

out to touch her shoulder, and at s

sts my hand behind my back. It ha

her hand when I use my o

hurt me." I groaned,

I try to stand straight. I r

m. She had this unreadable expression on her

s, and a baggy shirt. She looks l

ecting you," s

u would show up at my

that," she gest

ing for almost b

dislocating

eren't there. I'm sorry to show u

t my office tomorr

ase !" the corner of

etails tomorrow at my

and shutting the door, I took that as

ninvited, I won't only break your hand; I

he door. I stood there for a few seconds befo

ace beaming as I walked down th

for me-the one who wouldn't let anyone push he

e this whole thing started,