𝑺𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒉 𝑴𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓

     I can’t believe I forgot to text the delivery guy the address of the church. Rosa had called to tell me that the flowers she ordered hadn’t yet arrived, and that’s when it dawned on me I had forgotten to text the delivery guy the address. I’ve tried Anne’s number to no avail. I left my phone in the bedroom too, and I don’t have the delivery guy’s phone number off my head. I was left with no choice but to ask Dan to pull over blocks away from our house.

     He hadn’t grumbled, but he made the face. I told him I’d make it quick, and I kept my word. I reached the house in less than three minutes on foot because I ran. Now as I stand behind the door, turning the keys in the lock, I can hardly catch my breath.

     Frantically, I get the door open and immediately I step inside the house, someone dashes across the living room into the kitchen. A gasp escapes my mouth as I enter the house, the keys dangling with each step I take.

      “Hello!” I shout. “Is somebody here?”

     No response. But I’m sure someone sneaked into the kitchen, or maybe I imagined the person. On calculated steps, I walk into the kitchen. The door is left ajar. Even the Venetian blinds aren’t closed.

     I’m sure it skipped me because we were in a hurry. I skitter toward the blinds. I’m about to close them when I hear footsteps advancing rapidly behind me. I turn around swiftly to see the intruder in the house, but before I can process anything, she swipes at me with something, and I fall to the floor, my vision blurry.

     The only thing I see is a woman running away through the door, her footsteps echoing loudly. I blink rapidly. Seconds later, I don’t see or hear anything.