The streets of New York City are always slick and slippery after a storm. The humid air was doing nothing to help with my already frizzy hair. The cold air still remained and it chilled like another storm was brewing. I watched a woman walk by holding a laptop over her head as protection from the already raining down drizzle. I pulled my bag closer to my body, no way was I going to sacrifice all of my hard work for a little bit of water.
It's not like I had anything to worry about though. I looked through my clear umbrella at the droplets running down. I like clear umbrellas they're convenient, reasonable. You can pull it lower so it covers more and you can see your surroundings through it. They're reliable. Unlike people. Last summer, my world was turned upside down by someone I trusted. Needless to say, I have trust issues now.
My mind was sucked into memories from the lowest point in my life. Even with all of the benefits of this clear sight, I still managed to bump into a man on my way. I apologized but he gave me a stiff glare. His eyes seemed to glow red for a second before his features softened and green eyes met mine. It must have been a trick of the light, his eyes were a very nice emerald color that looked like they would glow in the sunlight.
"Sorry," I snapped out of my trance, "I should've been paying more attention."
He nodded and scurried away, but I swear I saw a dusting of red covering his cheeks. I smiled and kept walking towards the café. I sat in my usual seat at the counter. James sauntered over when he saw me walk in, coffee already in hand.
"You're late," He offered me the cold coffee, "You're never late."
"I got distracted," I mumbled, grabbing the cup from his hand.
I set up my laptop, open to the draft of my new book. I'd been up all night writing a death scene, a pretty gruesome one.
"Wow, harsh," James said, reading over my shoulder. "Who hurt you?"
"Don't you have a job to do?"
"Someone's grumpy," I glared at him, and he held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, sorry, I'll leave."
I drank the coffee and started typing. I was writing for hours. Later in the day, around lunch time, I ordered my usual lunch and zoned in on a chapter I was writing, a chase scene. Spoiler alert— one of them dies; although, I haven't decided who kills who yet.
All was well for fifteen minutes, I ate my food and drank the water I had asked for. A tingling sensation sparked at my neck, it felt like someone was breathing down my neck, but ten miles away at the same time. I turned around and couldn't see anybody there. The chilling feeling still lingered. I figured it was best to stay put, in a public place where nothing could happen without someone seeing. Maybe I've been reading too many thrillers.
When James' shift ended I asked if I could walk home with him. We're neighbors. The only reason I've come to trust him is because our complex has thin walls, if I try hard enough I could hear any plots he has. Again, probably reading too much. We have our own kind of friendship (which he likes to point out is mainly just banter). Despite the jabs and general irritation it brings me, I do enjoy having a friend.
Moving to the city was hard, my family moved to LA when I went to college and I didn't know anyone else here. I met someone— but that didn't work out so no need to talk about it. James saw all the boxes outside my apartment and offered to carry them in, being young and naive, I let him help. Good thing he was nice, I thought he was cute so I asked for his number, eventually we just fell into friendship, nothing more, nothing less.
Walking next to him now eased my nerves, nobody could follow me on his watch. We walked into the building and got in the elevator, perfectly safe and away from the dangers of the city.
Or so I thought.
