Lou stood at her apartment window and took in her view of the Mississippi River for the last time.
The only thing left behind was the bare mattress on the floor. She would drop that off at a dumpster after dark. Her sofa, her medical kit, clothes, paintings, and books—everything she’d decided to keep—had all been moved to the new place. She’d even brought her two coffee mugs and four water glasses along.
Her armory had also been packed up and moved. Every gun, every knife, every flash bomb and piece of Kevlar. Her beloved flamethrower. Her father’s bulletproof vest.
It hadn’t been difficult for her to pack up alone, and she suspected her form of moving was far easier than what most people endured. She’d only needed enough shadow to shift her furniture and boxes from one place to another
