Crossing streets and building bridges in the dark
All I could hear was the scuffling of shoes and the plodding of feet. I felt heavy breathing from behind me, making the hair on the back of my neck prickle. My pace instinctively quickened before I realized the pursuers’ breath was only warm air blowing from an unseen vent. And then I made contact.
“Someone just stepped on my foot,” my friend announced, loud enough for the whole group to hear.
“That was me, sorry.” I shot back in a whisper, hoping no one could see me blushing. Then I remembered no one could see me at all.