I was surprised he didn’t demand a helicopter to airlift me there too, but I went along with his demands to get out of the swarm of reporters as soo... as possible. As the paramedics lifted me into the back of the ambulance and I was able to see past the cameras and microphones in my face, I searched the crowd for John once again. While Charles argued with the ambulance driver over whether or not he could ride in the back with me, I locked eyes with my protector. He sat on the curb barely ten. I passed the cobbler where Vito was too busy repairing a shoe to see my wave. He always looks so happy, but I never liked the smell of worn, dirty leather mixed with shoe polish every time I entered his cobbler’s shop. He must be immune to the smell. The photographer’s studio wasn’t opened yet. Maybe, she was busy doing a private shooting at someone’s home. That’d be a good business to own, until I thought of all the screaming kids she must have to put up with to make a living. Then, there are. More

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