I didn’t want to think he could see me.
I saw them so clearly because they were standing in an opening, no trees to cast shadows over them, so the moon illuminated their faces.
I was right next to an ancient tree trunk, completely in shadow.
Still, I felt his gaze with impact, knocking what little was left of my breath out of my lungs.
I was so focused on him looking at me that I had no idea if anyone else saw me.
I stopped halfway home, finding a neighborhood with their bins at the curb for trash day, and quickly dropped the magazine in one of them before continuing on.
I expected to start feeling better as I got further away from the crime scene—both literally and figuratively. But the shakiness seemed to only get worse the further I went.
By the time I pushed my bike into the storage unit again back at my apartment, my insides felt shaky too. My legs felt weak and wobbly.
“Okay. Almost there,” I told myself as I climbed the steps toward my apartment. “You’re okay.”
I unlocked my doors with a jangling of my keys and beelined right for my counter, wiping my finger, pricking it, and testing my sugar.
Only to stare at the readout with a sinking feeling.
My sugar was fine.
That wasn’t why I was shaking, why I was dizzy.
I slid down the side of the island, my knees pinned to my chest as Sugar came up beside me to lick my face and dance around, happy to see me even if I was a mess.
If my sugar was fine, then what?
Was I having a panic attack?
Me?
I didn’t have panic attacks.
Except…
Well, except that I wasn’t who I’d been just a year ago. I wasn’t cool and calm and unflappable.
This whole health thing had made me really anxious and antsy and, well, flapped.
I was used to a body that just… did what it was supposed to do, that regulated itself, that didn’t need oversight.
Learning that mine now not only needed monitoring but a careful diet but—no matter how perfectly I ate—two different kinds of medication had made me suddenly very paranoid, very untrusting of myself.
I guess all of that paranoia and distrust created something else new for me: anxiety.
Lovely.
Just what I needed.
“I’m a mess,” I told Sugar.
I reached up toward the island to grab my phone to check in on my app so it didn’t text my neighbor.
“We should probably try to get some sleep, huh?” I asked when Sugar rested her head on my legs and let out a long-suffering sigh.
Her ears perked up at that.
