Lola Malone was only a block from Tompkins Square
Park when she, stopped abruptly. She had dismissed the
thought earlier, but the sound she heard behind her now,
although slightly muffled by the thin coating of snow,
was unmistakably that of footsteps.
Nervous, she glanced over her shoulder. The dark
street was a stark reminder that she had never felt com-
fortable walking through this area of Manhattan at night.
Vibrant with a mix of artists, students and tourists dur-
ing the day, the East Village turned downright threaten-
ing in the late hours. Fortunately, tonight the snow had
kept the derelicts away. Most of them, anyway.
Lola peered into the darkness. Except for a homeless
person curled up in a doorway and a couple of distant
headlights, the street was empty.
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