Control

shipping

She doubled checked the address that she had written hastily on a napkin. The purple crayon had been thick, tearing at the delicate paper as she’d scratched out his exact words. 2020 Mercer Street. Shipping and Receiving entrance. 3pm. Squinting at her watch, she mulled over a future of possibility. Everything he had requested was tucked neatly inside the backpack she had slung over her left shoulder.

He’d said to leave it and simply walk away, but she couldn’t. Not when he was this close. They both had something that the other couldn’t let go of- he no longer controlled the game. Mari knew she was in his sights. That somewhere nearby, he was watching her, calculating her body language. Come and get me, she thought, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. The cell phone she kept tucked in her pocket began to vibrate.

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