All because of the cursed subway. “Signal malfunctions,” they’d called it. The station closure, the suffocating crush of bodies on the escalators, and then, the final insult—the snap of her heel as she ran up the last flight of stairs. Why had she worn these shoes? But it wasn’t about the heel. They say trouble never comes alone. For her, it seemed to arrive in battalions.

With trembling fingers, Veronica pulled out her phone and dialed. Her fingers shook so badly she missed the numbers twice.

“Dr. Evans’ office,” a crisp voice answered.

“Hello, this is Veronica Hayes,” she said, her own voice sounding pathetic and cracked, a stranger’s voice. “I had an interview scheduled for ten o’clock.”