A Kiss To Build A Dream On - Season 2: Bridge

The Deadly Fandango - Duende

Snow pelted Adrian's face from all directions as she approached her apartment on Lincoln Street, right in the heart of Dorchester. The worst part about her daily commute was the walk to the bus station to her apartment building.

She had no place to park, so she, like many other Bostonians, was bound to the bus services to move around, especially annoying when going grocery shopping. Her arms were heavy with thin, plastic bags eating at her hands. Despite the uncessant cold, sweat drenched her back and forehead, giving the howling winds a new front to attack her.

429-R70, she repeated in her mind as the blue Camaro that had been following her since she left the market passed slowly next to her for the fifth time. She couldn't see the occupants since the windows were tinted, but she could have sworn that a flash went off in there at least once. She was being followed.

She switched all the bags to her left hand, rummaging her pockets for her house keys with her right hand. She was within sprinting distance from the entrance of her apartment, but she was not stupid enough to let her pursuers know where her apartment was. According to her own count, the car took up to two minutes to go around the block and back to her. Two minutes for her to run inside. But she knew that with the weight of the bags, she could never make it. She had to make a sacrifice.

Using her fingers to weigh each bag individually, she noticed that the heaviest one was the one containing a jug of orange juice and a tube of salami. That will do, she thought, gripping her keys tightly.

She slowed down as much as she could, waiting for the car to pass again. As soon as the Camaro turned the corner behind her, she took out her keys, slashing the bottom of her selected bag.

"Dammit!" she yelled in her most convincing voice, kneeling down beside the spilled contents. The car slowed down, passing right beside her. She could feel numerous eyes pinning on her, but made her best attempt not to look up. If she showed that she noticed, things could turn ugly for her. As soon as the car turned the corner again, she ran for it.

The bags jiggled and ripped under her fingers as she sprinted as best she could through the snow. Fearing they would break open, she opted to cradle them like a baby. One-twenty, she counted.

Fresh snow had covered the entire street, making each groove and crevice of the sidewalk a hidden spring-trap ready to pop out as soon as Adrian stepped on them, such as the case of a raised brick flower bed in which her foot got caught in.

She plummeted down like a tree, tossing her bags all over the sidewalk.

"Dammit!" she yelled, this time for real. Eggs were destroyed, soda spilling like a rocket, broken jars of spaghetti sauce, the works. The only thing that was surprisingly spared was a jug of milk.

Fifty-eight, a voice yelled in her head. She had no time to think about her pain. With all her strength, she sprung back up, taking the jug with her.

Thirty, she said in her mind as she reached the door of her apartment. She patted her pockets, but no keys could be found.

Adrian panicked. Her heart was beating non-stop, pumping blood to her ears. It was deafening.

A force deep inside her pulled her back to the flowerbed. Twenty-seven seconds.

She ran for it, leaving the jug at the foot of the door.

Her sweat had gone cold, replaced by the warmth of her blood pumping through her veins. Her thighs were burning up, as well as the scrapes on her knees. The only thing she could hear was the blood in her ears, and her own ragged breathing.

Something shiny caught her attention right under a lamppost. The fuzzy green key chain her wife had given her as a joke stood up like a beacon in the middle of the snow.