Everything goes blank after that. I call in sick the next day, stunned, and just stay in bed, silenced as the tears fall.
Why, is all I can think. Why did this happen? Why couldn't I do anything to stop it? Why Elise?
It must be random, I deduct. The guy is targeting women at Lower Nob Hill bars.
As I lay in my Murphy bed, mind spinning into rage that I can barely contain, my phone rings and rings, but I ignore it. Looking up through my bay window, I watch the fog roll in, snuffing out the sunshine. Somehow this makes me even angrier.
I throw off the covers and walk to the closet. Getting dressed, I glance into the mirror. I still look like shit, and feel it, too.
Walking down Jackson towards Hyde, I round the corner past my favorite cafe, where I like to sit o...

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