It was the wrong side of midnight. Jess was tired. She'd run too far, too fast. Like wading through a pond; the faster she moved, the bigger the ripples. The harder she bent time, the farther she could run, but it left traces. They could follow her wake, and they weren't far behind. Jacob would know what to do. He'd been doing this for years, decades. She wiped blood from her hands. It wasn't hers. She pulled her coat tighter around herself and kept moving, the world a snapshot around her. She, a blur, glimpsed in the night.
"Classic"
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