The Hardest Part

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THE STREET was dark except for a light that flickered in the distance. My eyes had been staring at the flickering light until a strange noise stole my attention. Turning my head, I saw a homeless man bending over a trashcan. He was rummaging through it, picking out glass bottles and aluminum cans, throwing them in a grocery cart. I flinched when I heard the next glass bottle hit the metal basket.

"Here, take this. We don't have much time." Mike's frantic voice was loud in my ear. Still dazed, I glanced up at him and saw he was holding an envelope out for me to take. My eyes stared at the envelope, but I couldn't make myself reach out for it.

"Emily." Mike's voice was soft but firm. "I know this is a lot to take in, but I need you to concentrate. Take the envelope." He enunciated the last few words slowly, carefully.

My hands shook as I reached out for it. "I'm not sure I can do this, Mike." I finally found my voice. "This is crazy. I—I don't know where to go." Once I had the envelope in my grasp, it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

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