Chapter 32 - The Illusion of SafetyLaura stood in the vibrant, chaotic aisles of the Mercado Libertad, squeezing a ripe avocado to check its firmness. The air was thick with the smell of roasting chilies, fresh cilantro, and sweet breads.
She loved the market. It was a sensory overload that firmly grounded her in the present.
"Two kilos of the tomatoes, please," Laura smiled at the vendor, an elderly woman who always slipped an extra piece of fruit into Jimena’s hands when the kids came along.
"Of course, señora," the vendor replied, bustling to fill a paper bag.
As Laura waited, the hair on the back of her neck suddenly stood up.
It was a visceral, physical reaction. The exact same feeling she used to get when they were on the run, moving from cheap motel to cheap motel, always looking over their shoulders.
She slowly lowered the avocado and glanced at the small, mirrored display case next to the cash register.
Reflected in the glass, standing three aisles over near the butcher’s counter, was a man. He wasn't browsing. He wasn't buying meat. He was standing perfectly still, his arms crossed, his eyes locked directly on the back of Laura’s head.
Breathe, Laura told herself. It’s just paranoia. You have PTSD. It's playing tricks on you.
She paid the vendor, offering a tight smile, and grabbed her bags. She deliberately chose a different exit, weaving through a dense crowd of shoppers, putting a wall of bodies between herself and the butcher’s counter.
She stepped out into the bright, blinding sunlight of the street, her heart hammering against her ribs.
She walked two blocks toward the bus stop, constantly checking her peripheral vision.
"Excuse me, Laura."
She gasped, spinning around, nearly dropping her groceries.
It wasn't the man from the market. It was a young woman, holding a clipboard, looking apologetic.
"I’m sorry to startle you," the woman said. "Are you Laura Castillo?"
"Who is asking?" Laura demanded, her voice defensive and sharp.
"I'm with the children's school," the woman smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "We need to update your emergency contact files. Specifically, your home address. There seems to be a discrepancy in our system."
Laura stared at the woman. The school never sent representatives to the streets to verify addresses.
"My files are up to date," Laura said coldly. "If the principal needs me, she can call my cell."
May you like
Laura turned and walked away, her pace quickening into a near-sprint.
The peace was over. They had been found.
