She won’t be able to sleep on this couch, in this room. Not next to this window. Because she is quite sure she’s just seen someone walk past it. The terror this figure fills her with is profound. It drives her up and out into the night. Her windbreaker will have to be protection enough against the weather, until she can make it to the boathouse. It’s very cold as she descends the hill, though her stolen treasure sits warm against her spine and the little green lights dance ahead to show her the way.
