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

something happen?”

He shook his head slowly, but the movement lacked conviction. “Not yet.”

My grip tightened on the door.

Not yet.

A strip of pink had begun to appear at the far edge of the horizon beyond the houses, just enough light to make the roofs look flat and unreal. The neighborhood was silent. No cars. No barking dogs. No early joggers. Only continue reading …