TWENTY MINUTES LATER...
You have reached your destination...
Gulping at my air-dried throat, I drop hands to knees, trying to grab enough air to quell the stitch jabbing at my ribs.
Straightening up in the middle of the deserted street, I revolve.
Fuck!
Of course, sending a location via mapping app is an entirely sensible approach in itself. But an address would have been useful.
Both sides of the road are populated by three and four-storeyed properties of the kind that once housed the prosperous middle classes, but these days are broken up into apartments. If I count only the two or three houses to my left and right, in front or behind, there must be sixty separate addresses within fifty yards.
To the East, the sky is paling, but at five in the morning, there’s not a lit window in
