Lauren needed to sit down. It had been a long, confusing and exhausting day. She was overstimulated and overwhelmed. Her brain felt scrambled. But there was no place to sit. Paramedics were still bringing out victims of the bomb blast, there were police everywhere and the crowd gathered outside the hotel seemed to be growing. 

She needed to find a quiet place to collect herself. Lauren began walking away from the hotel and toward the downtown area with its cozy collection of shops, cafes, bookstores and art galleries. Maybe there was a cafe that was still open this late. Or even a bar. She'd sit anywhere warm and safe.

The sound of the crowd slowly faded and Lauren could hear her own breath again. A few blocks away she found an open coffee shop and went inside. It was mostly empty but there was a lone guitarist singing into a dejected looking microphone. And the few patrons scattered about the shop seemed absorbed in their phones or books. Nobody seemed to be aware of the bomb blast just a few blocks away.

It was strange how life could be so different just two blocks away. No blood. No screams. No chaos. Just a quiet coffee shop and a guy on a guitar. Lauren ordered a "Soothing Herbal" tea and found a place to sit. She sank into the chair with a sigh of relief. She decided to text her best friend again and told her to spread the word that she was ok. She checked into Facebook and posted a status update letting everyone know she was safe.

She drank her tea slowly and let her blood pressure calm down. She felt the adrenaline drain from her body leaving her so tired she wasn't sure if she had the energy to walk back to the hotel. She checked her phone. She'd been in the coffee shop for nearly two hours. Surely they were letting people back inside the hotel now. 

She pulled Thomas' business card out of her pocket and tapped his number into her message app.

Hi, Thomas. This is Lauren. I'm not at the hotel. Is it all clear yet? I'd like to come get my things and find a new place to stay.

Within a couple of minutes, her phone began to ring. It was Thomas. She picked up. 

"Hey."

"Lauren?"

"Yeah."

"Where are you?" Thomas' voice sounded gruff and almost unfriendly.

"I'm at a coffee shop down the street. Why? Is everything ok?"

"Well, not really. Do you know a guy named Dex?"

"Yes."

"He's been taken into custody on suspicion of being involved with the bomb."

"What? That's crazy!"

"He says you're his alibi."

"Me?"

And then it hit her: Dex couldn't have been involved with the bomb going off because he'd been with her almost the whole night. But if she admitted to that, then Mikayla would know they'd been together. The last thing Lauren wanted was to have to explain what happened at the bar and later, in her room.

"Can I come pick you up?" Thomas asked. "I can drive you to the police station myself."

"Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening," Lauren said.

"It won't be long. We just want to ask you a few questions. And if it's true you're Dex's alibi, then we want to let him go."

"OK. I'm at the Chipped Tea Cup on 7th Ave," Lauren said. "It's about three blocks from the hotel."

"I'll Google it. Be there in a few minutes."

Lauren hung up. Her blood pressure was skyrocketing again. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest. Why would they suspect Dex of being involved? 

By the time Thomas picked her up, Lauren's mouth was dry and her palms were sweaty. She didn't feel like talking much. They drove in silence to the police station where Lauren was taken into a small interrogation room.

"Do I need a lawyer?" Lauren asked. 

"Nah, we're just asking some basic questions so that we can release your friend."

"OK."

The cops asked her where she'd been that night and asked her to lay out the timeline of events. Lauren obliged and realizing it was better to just be honest than worry about how things would appear, she told them everything.

"Well, your story checks out," the detective told her. "We'll let you go. If you think of anything else, please get back in touch."

"Do you know if Mikayla is ok?" Lauren asked.

"Dex's wife? Yeah, she's fine. In fact, she's here with Dex."

"Oh."

"Yeah, she wasn't too happy to hear about Dex's...activities this afternoon and early evening but I suspect she's happier than if he'd been involved with the explosion."

"You know what, I don't need to see them. I'm actually going to get my things at the hotel and go straight to the airport. All I want to do is go home."

The detective nodded. "I'll let you out the back door."

"Thanks."

Lauren followed the detective out of the police station. She called for an Uber and within a few minutes was on her way back to the hotel.

After she'd retrieved her bags and checked out of the hotel which was still buzzing with police, journalists and TV stations, she got back in the Uber and rode to the airport.

Weeks later, Lauren would hear that the police had identified a suspect in the bombing: a jealous, crazed Internet Influencer who was upset she hadn't been nominated for an award. In a statement that was released to the public, the suspect said she hadn't meant to kill anyone just hurt the people who hurt her. 

Mikayla had tried reaching out to Lauren several times since the bombing but Lauren had ignored all her texts and direct messages. Now, Mikayla was gone. Lauren was trying not to panic about this. Maybe Mikayla was just done with Dex. Maybe she'd decided it was time for her to leave. Dex was a scumbag, after all.

Lauren decided to reach out to Mikayla and leave her a message. 

Hey, Mikayla. I don't know where you've gone or what's happening with you but I just wanted to reach out and tell you nothing happened between Dex and myself. I drank too much that night. I should have been more careful. I'm sorry that my behavior has caused you pain. I didn't want an affair. And I have kept my distance out of respect for you and Dex. I hope you're safe and well. I'm here if you ever need a friend.

Lauren never heard from Mikayla but she did hear that Mikayla eventually showed up, took all her stuff from their house and moved in with her parents.

The Internet does strange things to people. It's easy to pretend you have an easy life, a happy marriage and an amazing lifestyle on Instagram. It's much harder to keep up that pretense offline. Sometimes the only way to snap yourself back to reality is to experience a real life tragedy. Lauren had learned this the hard way.

Later, when people would ask her why she quit Instagram, Lauren would reply: "I got sick of pretending."

Everyone seemed to understand exactly what she meant.

THE END