The sun was just beginning to set as Roxy Bresner stepped through the apartment door, the sky awash with bright pink and orange streaks. Cold swiftly enveloped her, its chill stopping her in her tracks and she almost turned around to grab a different sweater. Already later than usual, she decided against it. The Gupta’s had specifically asked her to be there by seven thirty. Fridays were “date night” for the young couple and Roxy had been watching their daughter, Riley, for nearly a year now. Tonight, their plans were of a special nature – they were attending an art exhibit in which a portrait of Mrs. Gupta herself was a main attraction.
The walk was a short one, less than three blocks, but a glance at her wrist showed Roxy she had less than five minutes to make it. She wrapped the plush scarf around her neck a third time and picked up the pace, the crunch of her boots on the asphalt echoing in the eery quiet. , she thought after passing several unlit homes, one after the other silent and still.