Outside the weather was warm for January, but Vic hunkered into his leather jacket and hurried down the steps of his building to his car, parked at the curb. As he passed behind his old, battered Toyota Corolla, he paused to look around. He was alone on the street at this hour. Turning toward the car, he bent at the knees a little and caught the black bumper in both hands. Then, with a deep breath to focus his energy, Vic tried to lift the end of the car.
His arms strained beneath the weight and the car budged slightly, but that was it. His hands grew slick with sweat, his muscles ached with the effort, and he let his fingers slide free from the bumper as he stood. So, his strength was gone, too.
Fuck.
He tried telling himself it didn’t bother him, but he still slammed the car door a
