Liliana’s Point of View
I stepped out of the car on my own and drew a deep breath while staring up at the sleek façade of the company building. Please, I prayed silently, let me get through the day without running into any of them—any of the three.
I swiped my ID at the turnstile and winced. That same wretched card had been left behind at the hotel—the hotel where everything went so terribly wrong. Because of that little piece of plastic they’d traced exactly where I worked. Great job, ID. Of all the things to lose, you just had to be the one. I muttered the words under my breath.
A soft chuckle sounded. I turned and found a guy about my age waiting for the elevator beside me, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Are you laughing at me?” I asked quietly.
He glanced around; the lobby was empty except for us. “Me?” he replied, feigning innocence.
“Unless you laugh to yourself the way I do.”
“Oh? Looks like we’re the same.”
“So you admit you’re crazy too.” I planted my hands on my hip
