Threats

ROBERT

After deliberating for an hour, I parked my car in front of the restaurant where Renee worked, ready to talk to her.

My stomach flipped, and before I could change my mind or even consider whether this was a good idea, my hands instinctively went to the door handle and pushed it open.

As I stepped out of the vehicle, a gust of wind hit me square in the face.

The air was crisp and cold, biting at my exposed skin and forcing itself painfully into my lungs.

The sky had suddenly turned dark gray, and the air was chilly, making me a little nervous as I approached the building.

I glanced at my wristwatch and saw that it was already four in the afternoon—two hours before she finished her shift if I recall correctly—and I quickened my pace.

I looked inside the restaurant through the glass windows, hoping to see Renee, but there was no sign of her.

As I approached the front door, I took deep breaths and tried to convince myself that she was probably somewhere else in the building