Camile
I turn into the parking lot of Michele’s apartment building, still convinced someone is watching me. Even though there’s a street cop nearby, I survey my surroundings before getting out of my car and then hurry toward the apartment building. My heart beats faster as I step into the lobby and make my way up to the apartment. I don’t like this feeling, and I have learned never to discount my intuition, no matter who thinks I might be crazy.
I reach the door, knock hastily, and steal a breath, trying to calm myself.
Michele opens the door like she’s in a rush. She is wearing a flowing red blouse and dark pants, her eyes wide with surprise as though we hadn’t just arranged this a half an hour ago.
“Hi Michele,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. My heart is thumping so hard I am
