I make it around the entire loop without falling, panicking, or phoning my boss in tears. When I reach my starting point again, I’m actually smiling. It’s a small victory. Pathetically small, really. I walked around a park with a stick. Toddlers accomplish more impressive feats before breakfast.
I’m folding up the cane, still congratulating myself on not dying, when a car door slams behind me.
The voice is male, unfamiliar, and way too close for comfort.
I spin around, and there it is: the black sedan with the blacked-out windows that’s been haunting me all week.
A man steps out. He’s wearing a dark suit and dark sunglasses despite the overcast sky. He’s built like he spends way too much quality time with a heavy punching bag. Every instinct I have screams run, but my stupid knee is st
