something strange about the way he carries himself—as if he’s trying to appear smaller than he is. It’s a hard feat—the man is six-two, six-three— easy.
Long. Lean. His hair is dark and shortly cropped. He walks with the gait of a man with a purpose.
There’s something familiar about him, but I can’t place it…
I tap Chris’s shoulder for his attention. He looks up at me, and I lean into him.
“Do you see that guy walking back there?”
He glances backwards.
“You mean the guy walking towards the exit?”
“Yeah. He look familiar to you?”
Chris gives another glance over his shoulder, slowing his stride.
“Not particularly. Why ? Does he to you?”
“Yeah, I don’t know why. He just kinda looks like… like…” Greg Sears.
I can feel the color drain from my face. “It looks like Sears,” I say to Chris. I stop, focusing my eyes on the man still heading towards the glass doors.
Chris stands still beside me.
“ Sears? As in Gregory Sears?”
“Yeah.” I squint harder.
“As in Kat’s ex-boyfriend ? Kat’s ex-boss ?”
“That’s the one.”
“The asshole who fired her ?! The one that Foxx punched right in the…”
“ Yes , Chris!” I whisper harshly. “How many other Greg Sears’s do you know?”
We lower our voices with each passing step the man takes. I can’t tell if we want him to hear us… or not. Is it him? And if it is…
What the fuck is he doing in our office building?
I don’t know what to do. Our company isn’t the only one housed in the building, but the coincidence would be too huge to ignore.
We watch the man walk through the first set of glass doors. He approaches the second set.
And when he does, he looks back at us. Directly back at us. And then… he takes off.
I run after him immediately.
My shoes start to slide on the glossy lobby floor because I am hurrying so fast.
I don’t even know why I chase him, but it seems to be a natural urge. The minute someone starts to run from you, your first instinct tells you to take flight.
And that’s exactly what I do.
I chase Gregory Sears out of the office building.
I hear the hasty steps of Chris behind me as I cross the glass-encased lobby. Whether or not he does it out of dutiful loyalty or a similar instinct, I do not know.
In fact, I think very little of it. Suddenly, all I can think about is Sears… and how to get my hands on him.
He races over the small bridge outside of the exit towards the parking deck. I am hot on his heels, the black soles of my shoes slapping melodically across the tile and then across a wooden walkway.
I ignore the rain that has started to fall out of the grey sky. I ignore the slipping of my steps as I race towards the deck—tie and business suit in tow.
I chuck the suit jacket into nearby grass, ducking wildly into the dark parking deck in search of the long and lanky Sears.
My head swivels instinctively, my eyes searching intensely for any motion as my ears and feet follow the sound of Greg’s fading footsteps.
I sprint through a line of cars, hoping to spot him in between them. I turn a corner.
Nothing .
I’ve lost him.
My chest heaves as I turn in circles, whipping the fallen dark hair off of my brow.
Then, the sudden screech of wheels makes me freeze.
A black Benz rounds the bend, barreling towards me. Its lights are on. It’s speeding fast. I know it’s Sears behind the wheel.
I don’t think; I just act.
My stance widens as I confront the racing Benz. Where do you think you’re going? I can feel the look of challenge on my face.
But the Benz never stops. It gets closer to me.
Closer… Closer…
The silver symbol on its front seems to wink at me. The lights beam directly into my face. I see Greg at the helm.
My breathing is surprisingly calm… for a man who’s about to be struck.
The thought jerks me back into sobriety. I dive seconds before Greg can mow me down.
But the dive isn’t graceful; it’s harsh—panicked.
I hit the
Long. Lean. His hair is dark and shortly cropped. He walks with the gait of a man with a purpose.
There’s something familiar about him, but I can’t place it…
I tap Chris’s shoulder for his attention. He looks up at me, and I lean into him.
“Do you see that guy walking back there?”
He glances backwards.
“You mean the guy walking towards the exit?”
“Yeah. He look familiar to you?”
Chris gives another glance over his shoulder, slowing his stride.
“Not particularly. Why ? Does he to you?”
“Yeah, I don’t know why. He just kinda looks like… like…” Greg Sears.
I can feel the color drain from my face. “It looks like Sears,” I say to Chris. I stop, focusing my eyes on the man still heading towards the glass doors.
Chris stands still beside me.
“ Sears? As in Gregory Sears?”
“Yeah.” I squint harder.
“As in Kat’s ex-boyfriend ? Kat’s ex-boss ?”
“That’s the one.”
“The asshole who fired her ?! The one that Foxx punched right in the…”
“ Yes , Chris!” I whisper harshly. “How many other Greg Sears’s do you know?”
We lower our voices with each passing step the man takes. I can’t tell if we want him to hear us… or not. Is it him? And if it is…
What the fuck is he doing in our office building?
I don’t know what to do. Our company isn’t the only one housed in the building, but the coincidence would be too huge to ignore.
We watch the man walk through the first set of glass doors. He approaches the second set.
And when he does, he looks back at us. Directly back at us. And then… he takes off.
I run after him immediately.
My shoes start to slide on the glossy lobby floor because I am hurrying so fast.
I don’t even know why I chase him, but it seems to be a natural urge. The minute someone starts to run from you, your first instinct tells you to take flight.
And that’s exactly what I do.
I chase Gregory Sears out of the office building.
I hear the hasty steps of Chris behind me as I cross the glass-encased lobby. Whether or not he does it out of dutiful loyalty or a similar instinct, I do not know.
In fact, I think very little of it. Suddenly, all I can think about is Sears… and how to get my hands on him.
He races over the small bridge outside of the exit towards the parking deck. I am hot on his heels, the black soles of my shoes slapping melodically across the tile and then across a wooden walkway.
I ignore the rain that has started to fall out of the grey sky. I ignore the slipping of my steps as I race towards the deck—tie and business suit in tow.
I chuck the suit jacket into nearby grass, ducking wildly into the dark parking deck in search of the long and lanky Sears.
My head swivels instinctively, my eyes searching intensely for any motion as my ears and feet follow the sound of Greg’s fading footsteps.
I sprint through a line of cars, hoping to spot him in between them. I turn a corner.
Nothing .
I’ve lost him.
My chest heaves as I turn in circles, whipping the fallen dark hair off of my brow.
Then, the sudden screech of wheels makes me freeze.
A black Benz rounds the bend, barreling towards me. Its lights are on. It’s speeding fast. I know it’s Sears behind the wheel.
I don’t think; I just act.
My stance widens as I confront the racing Benz. Where do you think you’re going? I can feel the look of challenge on my face.
But the Benz never stops. It gets closer to me.
Closer… Closer…
The silver symbol on its front seems to wink at me. The lights beam directly into my face. I see Greg at the helm.
My breathing is surprisingly calm… for a man who’s about to be struck.
The thought jerks me back into sobriety. I dive seconds before Greg can mow me down.
But the dive isn’t graceful; it’s harsh—panicked.
I hit the
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