Coins erupted from Liza’s change purse as she pulled out the credit card and she tossed it to the startled cashier. She scooped the coins off the floor, leaving behind a heads-up penny. Maybe someone could use the luck.
Liza walked halfway up Front Street, then turned around. Bruce turned in her econ paper. Why? How did he find it? She stopped walking. Hunter Wood’s peaked roofs were visible a couple of blocks away. Maybe Bruce was in his office. Did she want to see him? She would decide on the way. Liza cut through the University’s garden. Jesus, this place was nasty. The cold temperature, cigarette butts, and empty beer bottles killed the plants over the fall, but the weeds were doing fine. She sidestepped a cluster of gnarled vines with spiked balls. A weed with sharp white fuzz smacked her in the face. Her eye felt like it was on fire.
She bent over. Liquid was running down her face. Don’t let it be blood. Don’t let it be blood. When she finally psyched herself up to touch her cheek, she was relieved to find that it was just tears. Her eye wouldn’t stop watering. She could barely see. Light footsteps sounded on the frozen mulch behind her. Someone was coming up the path behind her. She turned around, one hand over the leaky eye, the other on the knife in her pocket.