My parent's concern touches me, but I'm not surprised. They've always been overprotective. As you may have gathered, I conveniently left out the part about following the man. Both times. 

     As I ride uphill, I feel dragged down, completely overwhelmed from seeing that dead woman’s body and still in shock. Home is the last place I want to be. Instead, I head for the bar.

     Since it's Sunday, the city streets are quiet, and before I know it, I'm parking my scooter perpendicular between two cars on Sutter St. I probably should feel a little guilty for going to a bar — most good girls would be home getting ready for the first day at their new job, but I don’t have time for that. Most people didn’t just witness a...

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