Page 10 of Fly's Path

The sun is starting to peek out, and I can’t lie here anymore, but the house is way too quiet. There hasn’t been a single footstep on the stairs.

Neither Dahlia nor her husband is awake yet. It would be weird if I just wandered around their house, even though they gave me a tour yesterday.

What do I do until they wake up? Write…I always need to get more words in. But my brain feels too restless for that. If I were home, I’d go for a run. Is it safe to do that alone in Urbium?

There was a guard at the gate to the community when I entered. It’s probably as safe as it gets in this town.

It only takes a few minutes to dig through my bag and find my outfit and earbuds before I make it out the door.

The cold air smacks me in the face.

Do I get a jacket or try to push through until the activity warms me from the inside? Eh…Who’s afraid of a little chilly air?

The streets are silent and empty, which seems odd in a city that never sleeps. But it’s also really early, so the smart people are probably still in bed or stumbling over to their coffeepots.

As I pick up the pace, the world around me shrinks to the music thumping in my head and the ground in front of me.

There’s nothing else. No plotlines to work out. No marketing issues to solve. No weird Kissing Pact to avoid. No medical issues to solve. No lack of housing.

The pain in my side slows me down until it brings me to a stop to drag oxygen into my lungs.

Short, gasping pants lead to long, deep, cleansing breaths.

With that, the world returns, and with it a desire for situational awareness, which, according to the internet, is one of the most important facets in keeping yourself safe. Out come the earbuds. The sudden silence startles me, only to be broken by what sounds like a woman sobbing.

It can’t be. Everyone is asleep.

But that’s definitely a woman crying.

What do I do?

Call the police, idiot.

And say what? They’ll think I’m crazy. A smart woman would walk away. Tears could mean anything.

Those sobs aren’t happy tears.

Walk away.

Be safe.

Walk away. I can’t…I can’t just walk away, but I do set up a panic button to call 911 if things go south.

That’s smart. At least a little smart. This is dumb, but I follow the sobs down to the side of what is probably a boutique hotel or maybe a museum into a fenced garden…this isn’t a shoot-first state, right?

Please don’t kill me for trying to be a nice person.

Please don’t kill me.

The deeper I get into the garden, the louder her sobs get. This woman isn’t just hurt. She’s crushed. Her salt-and-pepper hair is sprawled across the wrought-iron table she’s sitting at. Her entire body shakes with each sob.

Thankfully, there doesn’t appear to be anyone else around.

“Excuse me. Are you okay?”

The woman’s head pops up and turns toward me. She’s only slightly younger than my grandmother but older than my mother would be if she were still alive.

Attempting to blink away tears does nothing to stop them from streaming down.