"Shit! I told you not to leave, and you just took off!"
Nora Ainsworth ran fast, putting a good distance behind her. When she realized no one was chasing her, she finally slowed to catch her breath. She left the residential complex, hailed a cab, and returned to her small apartment.
The apartment was cold and silent.
She lay on her bed, tossing and turning all night. Her dreams were a chaotic mess, a relentless string of nightmares.
When she woke up, it was only four or five in the morning, but sleep was now impossible. The moment she opened her eyes, her thoughts turned to Quentin Grant.
Nora Ainsworth twisted the cap off a water bottle and took several large gulps. GULP. GULP. GULP. She tossed the bottle aside and leaned back against the headboard.
As dawn began to break, she got out of bed and started packing. 'I've moved way too often these past two years,' she thought. 'Life is so unstable.'
'I just bought this one-bedroom apartment, and now I have to sell it already.'
