At 5:02 a.m., my reclusive neighbor hammered on my door and whispered, “Don’t go to work today—by noon, you’ll understand,” then vanished like he’d just broken every rule keeping me alive

only by force. “Do not leave the house. Not for work. Not for coffee. Not for anything. Just trust me.”

A cold draft slipped through the opening and ran across my bare legs.

“Gabriel, what are you talking about?”

His jaw tightened. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were painfully awake.

“I can’t explain right now.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“I know.”

“Did continue reading …