I can’t let her see me.

Rushing across the street, I do my damnedest to cut over to the next block. My feet are not cooperating, and I feel like a cartoon character, sliding and jumping, limbs flailing in every direction, oranges flying out of my bag and rolling down the sidewalk.

Sooner or later it was bound to happen, and apparently today’s the day.

My boots slide out from under me and I go down hard. My butt smacks the ice and my head gets cold cement. All I can do is lie here staring up at the bare branches, black against a grey-blue sky. Maybe it’ll snow later.

“Oh my God!”

I hear her voice, but I don’t think she knows it’s me. Not just yet.

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

I feel her footfalls as she runs up from behind me, tumbling to her knees at my side. She’s got the widest dairy-cow eyes I’ve ever seen, which only grow wider with recognition.

“Lauren,” she says, gasping. “Oh my God, Lauren, are you okay?”

Her long black hair cascades over one shoulder. It’s one of the coldest days of the year and she isn’t wearing a hat. That almost makes me angry because I care for her so damn much. And that definitely makes me angry, because after what she did to me I don’t want to care for her at all…