He looked at the image on the photo, a young woman walking down a quiet city street carrying a heavy backpack. An address and time was scribbled in black sharpie across the bottom. The road was one he had traveled a hundred times. They had probably crossed paths often and not even noticed. It was an easy task in a city this large. Time was critical with his job, so he tucked the photo into a pocket and peddled down the street. Missing her could cost him future work.
Neither the coffee nor the cool air could shake her fatigue. If only she could sleep without bad dreams. Worried about being late, she didn’t look before darting into the road. There was only a flicker of warning, a hostile wind that made her look up in time to see him barreling toward her. Their eyes met for just an instant, and the chill she saw in them made her heart stop. It felt like a DVD in slow motion – dark icy eyes – a glint of sun off the blade that appeared in his hand – and all the time her feet glued to the asphalt. Then, at the last second, the bicycle jerked, tossing him under a passing truck. She blinked as tears streamed down her face, trying to slow her racing heart. For just a moment, right before he fell, she saw the ghostly image of a foot, kicking the wheel of the bike.