They stood staring at each other. His expression twisted with something like disgust, or disapproval, or just... incomprehension. God, what was he waiting for?
"Who... are you?!" The question erupted from her before she could stop it.
He said nothing, of course. But she saw in his eyes the second when hesitation resolved into action. He launched himself at her. Alie skittered around and ran. It was an animal reflex. Adrenaline flight. She wasn't going to get away.
Alejandra emerged from Reyes' claustrophobic office into the crisp San Francisco afternoon. His building was just a short walk to Gallery Row, and she willed Market Street's energy to ease the transition: the nervous buzz of shoppers and office drones bustling to and fro, the salt-scented wind whipping through canyons of glass and steel, the hungry growl of passing cars.
The F train ching, chinged as she rounded Market onto Geary.
The air invigorated her most of all. Something wicked lived there, mocking her one moment, and clamoring after her to shed her body and join it in oblivion the next. She told her parents this and it frightened them. She told the doctors this and it concerned them. What she never told them was how much she wanted to do as the air suggested.
3113 / 10000 words. 31% done!