Debo was standing face-to-face with her, the shadow of his towering frame engulfing her. He had gone from where he was pacing, some twenty feet away, to directly in front of her in a split-second. Bryson smirked, then realized his hand was empty. It was curved as if it was still holding a cup. He looked back at Debo and, sure enough, he now had Bryson’s glass of lemonade. Not only had Debo gone from point A to point B within in the blink of an eye, he’d also taken a detour to a third point.
FORESHADOWING!!!!
