Precursor no.4

"We're just 'round up that way, just around up that way, I promise it's fine," he was talking too much. My decision was caught in my throat. My vocabulary consisted of "um", and no one else was talking. It wasn't even my birthday. I was thinking of my boyfriend and of Bundy and Ramirez.
"Sure," slithered out of my mouth and lit up the face of my red-haired stranger. I was upset about being so conversational, it was draining and I could feel judgement's burning glare from the eyes behind me, but something in my chest was ready to die. I was ready to die in this dead, 4 a.m. city.