Fishing her mobile from her coat pocket, she typed a message to her friend as quickly as her numb fingers would allow. Seriously, where the hell are you!?
21:42
Sod this! I'm going home.
Debating whether she should inform Marie of this, or just let her figure it out for herself when she finally came . . . if at all. Deciding against the possible dramatic tale Marie would come up with and complain to her, no doubt Marie would place herself in the favourable light as the selfless protagonist, and make it seem as if she had been the one to wait all evening, not Clara.
I'm going home. Call me tomorrow.
Quickly finishing the rest of her drink, she stood a moment and let the feeling return to her legs, before setting off toward home. With a stomach full of the last of her beer and the movement of walking her limbs began to regain a bit of warmth; her thoughts drifted, the tempting thought of a quick shower and the comfort of her bed were calling her home.
Perhaps if she were not so cold and tired, she would have had enough energy to have felt annoyed at being stood up by her friend, instead all she felt was disappointment. Their friendship over the past few years, it would seem, had begun to disintegrate since leaving college to attend to different universities. She had always given Marie a certain amount of leeway as far as their friendship was concerned. It sometimes felt as if Marie expected her to listen to every little problem, every recount of the fights she had with her boyfriend, and remember all she had ever said and done down to the last detail; whereas if Clara had gone to Marie about a problem, she would not have the time to care.
Clara sighed, she'd figure it out tomorrow.
She surveyed the area around her, making sure she was unaccompanied on her way back, every shadow an opportunity it felt like for something to suddenly appear - her heart beat a little faster at the thought. Just breathe, it's no use getting yourself worked up.
Then just as suddenly as it had come on the last time, she felt the uneasiness creep back up her spine; she felt it on the back of her neck, the feeling of being watched, of something or someone behind her, she felt it in her stomach, the impulse to turn around, but fought it. Just barely daring to breathe she strained to listen behind her, there was the sound of her footsteps, but there was also something else.
Clara turned right when she reached the end of the road, then cut across to the other side of the road and walked in the narrow patch of grass, quieting her footsteps.
There!
She had heard it – a second pair of footsteps!
Her heart beat faster as adrenalin began flowing in her veins. She was getting closer to her flat, but it was still about a ten minutes' walk – no that was the last place she wanted to be followed to.
Breathe, just breathe.
Knowing she'd have to look back to confirm there was someone behind her or if it was just her imagination – either providing little comfort. Taking a left, she glanced down the street – no cars, no people in sight.
It's not even that late! Where the hell is everyone?
A sinking feeling began in the pit of her stomach, looking ahead she decided she'd turn right at the end of the block and glance behind her just as she turned the corner of the building.
Five steps.
Clara swallowed down the lump forming in her throat, her mouth going dry.
Four steps.
1. Memento Vivere - Remember to Live
Start from the beginning
