By: Ed Dzitko
Maya bounced up the steps to her brownstone apartment, keys in hand. As she grabbed her mail, she looked curiously at the red envelope, an usual arrival.
Anything was possible on good days, right? She opened it and froze.
“What? No! Oh God.” Her heart racing, her breathing quick, she looked up and down the street. Stuffing the obscene note into her pocket, she shakily put her key into the lock. She glanced around once more before entering and slamming the door shut.
Going no further alone, she fumbled for her phone, sank into a squat, and sobbing, dialed 911.