I am staring skyward, transfixed by the luminous orb set against the crisp night sky
“So what you’re sayin’ is, turns out girlfriend was a demon all along?”
I feel the sun’s heat on my back. I curl into a defensive ball and pull my hands up over my face to deny the daylight access.
The jocular British accent echoes down the long empty hallway.
My eyes flutter open after two hours of restless quasi-sleep. The cycle begins again, alone in my bed, sunlight threatening from the curtain edges, splitting headache.
Rodriguez’s long legs take the battered stairs three at a time.
The peculiar words tug me back in to reality. The gruff yet familial tone pulls my focus from deep within an empty glass, where it had been languishing for some time.
I talk non-stop on the ride to Murzim’s loft, convinced that if I leave the slightest lull in conversation unfilled the boys will have second thoughts about the entire escapade.
The phone buzzed and gently rattled against some loose change in my pocket.