I kept glancing over my shoulder all the way home. So far, so good.
I ran up the steps, opened the door, slammed it shut and secured the locks.
Mom was in bed, nursing her swollen ankle she'd hurt last night. That's why she couldn't go out.
She practically pulled my arm off, taking the package. She plunged the needle into a vein, smiled in gratitude and said, "You're a good son. God will reward you one day."