Two days later, I had the entire day off and was driving myself crazy in Shannon’s apartment flipping channels. The sounds of Brooklyn just outside of the living room window filtered in, as they always did, asking me to join them.

Sighing, I turned the TV off and stood, pulling my coat and gloves on. The high was almost 40 today; it wasn’t too cold to hit the streets and explore.

On the street, I began to walk aimlessly. Brooklyn itself was big enough, but what if I ventured into Manhattan today? It felt like such a touristy thing to do, but I had barely seen the city at all since I got here. A part of me felt like exploring was putting myself out into the open, like a mouse launching itself into an open field when it knows a hawk isn’t far off.

And there was no doubt that I was that mouse.

I thought of my husband, remembering that careful way he watched me. The way his eyes tracked me through the house.

No. I wouldn’t think about that.

My breaths were puffs in front of my face as I strolled, looking at the buildings and people as I passed them. Everyone looked so at ease, in a way I never felt since coming here. They walked as if they knew where they were going.

I definitely didn’t know where I was going. The farthest I ever had to go from the apartment was to work, and that was only two blocks away. I still hadn’t gotten used to this place - everything I could ever need was in those two blocks, a stark contrast to suburban life. Trendy coffee shops. Restaurants ranging from carry-out Thai to overpriced gourmet. A pet store with kittens mewing through the windows at passersby. Even a full-service grocery store - it was all there, amongst all the apartments and brownstones. I sold my car after two weeks of living here, realizing quickly that having one was not practical at all.

My husband had also been on the title, and I had to hold my breath and force myself to forge his name on the title before selling, knowing that doing it could possibly be my downfall. But I didn’t have much of a choice. I had gotten a ticket the second day here because I forgot to move it, and that was precious money ill-spent.

The money from the car went straight into my account, more than doubling what I had. Seeing that money, knowing that it belonged to me, gave me a sense of security. But I still didn’t know what exactly I was saving for.

The thought of downtown loomed in my mind again. I hadn’t seen the Empire State building up close, nor Central Park, or even Times Square. All those things you think of when you think of New York, and I hadn’t seen them. Today could be the day to change that.

At a street corner, I paused and pulled my map of the city out of my bag. It wasn’t something I did often, as I had learned the few blocks around the apartment quickly, but I knew that if I was going to cross the bridge and venture out, I had to brave the subway and this map had a helpful guide to the routes.

As my eyes scanned the map, I began to doubt myself. Was this a stupid idea? It had been four months since I left. Four long months. Every shadow made me jump, and I was constantly looking behind my shoulder, half-expecting to see him there, following me. I thought of Shannon’s offer, to help pay for a therapist. But I knew, deep down, that no therapist could change the inevitable.

He would find me. He was only biding his time.

“Are you lost?”

The sound of a voice, a male voice, snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned to look in the direction of that voice and saw a man staring at me, hands in his coat pockets, blue eyes piercing mine.

“Excuse me?” I asked, trying to add indignation to my question but failing miserably. I knew how I looked: windswept hair and reddened cheeks from the cold, holding a flimsy map of the city. I had been staring at it for too long, like a lost toursit.

“I don’t mean to be rude or anything. You just looked lost. Can I help you find your way?”

My eyes flicked to his full lips, tracing the line of a well-groomed beard, and then finding my way back to those eyes again. He didn’t look threatening, but I was immediately suspicious. He seemed awful friendly for being a perfect stranger, and any thoughts of him being a tourist were lost when I caught his mild accent. I had heard a lot of New Yorker accents since I got here, but for reasons unknown to me, his made me look twice.

He was handsome. Oh, who was I kidding? He was hot. A blush crept up my neck as I felt a strange feeling in my gut, knowing that I was reacting to a stranger in the street.

Jesus, calm down, I told myself.

“I don’t think so. Thanks though.”

I went to great pains to pretend to consult my map again, all the while aware that the hot guy was still lingering. I didn’t move, intending to find the proper route to Manhattan, wanting for the first time in four months to see what Central Park looked like.

“Where are you trying to go?” his voice cut through my thoughts again, and this time there was persistence in his voice.

I sighed, looking back at him again. The wind blew, raking his brown hair back. It looked thick and soft. He squinted at me, and my eyes snapped to meet his, hoping he hadn’t caught me staring.

There was something about his face, something so open. I licked my lips.

“I’m trying to… to get to Central Park.”

If he thought that was stupid, he didn’t show it. Instead, he smiled and leaned closer, pointing at a yellow route on my map.

“You’ll want to take either the R or N train. See how there are stops right here, near the park?” he traced one of the lines, and I had a bizarre and utterly consuming thought of how that finger would feel tracing that line down my skin.

My mouth dried, and I nodded. I wished he’d step away. His nearness was making me dizzy.

As if he could read my mind, he straightened up. He had a look of satisfaction on his face, but it shifted suddenly, turning into something else that I couldn’t name.

“Thank you very much.” I folded my map up, putting it back in my bag. I was eager to get on the subway and away from this encounter.

“Iain,” he said, extending a hand. I shook it, wanting very much not to, not wanting to create a connection with him.

“Lila,” I said, forcing a smile on my face, giving him my fake name with an ease I wasn’t aware I possessed. “Thanks again. I’d better get going.”

“It was nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

He inclined his head and then turned, heading down the street in the opposite direction from which I came. I watched him go, feeling a sense of loss but not knowing why. There was nothing to lose - he was a stranger, and knowing his name didn’t make him any less so.

On the crosswalk sign, the light changed, and I crossed the street with some other people, forcing myself to forget about Iain and those searching blue eyes.