Broken Clocks
JAVI
The sounds of a struggle reach me before the scream does. The parking lot behind The Sweet Spot is empty, the open air pitch black. A cool Bay breeze washes over me as I wait just outside the stockroom walls for Delilah to exit, as I’ve done every night since I came back into her life, showing up suddenly in San Francisco.
But this windy San Francisco night is different. The cries of fear tell me so.
I run to the back door, gripping its handle—pulling, but it won’t budge. The back lock taunts me, and I kick at the big, brass bolts, stomping the heel of my black boot against them, smashing them to f*****g Hell as the screams grow louder behind the door, the quiet broken by the noise emanating from the other side.
Strength I didn’t know I had takes hold of my limbs an
