I take my usual route to work, stopping at my usual bakery for coffee. But it's not a typical morning because I didn't see him. I'm restless and everything is moving in a sluggish motion, voices and car engines ringing in my ears, like I'm trapped in a fun house. I'm going through Locke withdrawals, aren't I? Yes, that's what this is. And it's twice as intense because I've touched him now. Spent time with him. I didn't get my daily dose.
Didn't—
I stop short when I walk into my office.
Locke is...here? Or more likely, my mind is playing tricks on me.
He can't really be sitting in our client reception area, holding a bouquet of flowers, his mouth moving, as if he's silently rehearing a speech. What is happening?
I try to fill my lungs with oxygen, but I can only manage a gasping half-b
