"I'm clocking out," I say to Daia, who is still at her station. It is nearly ten in the evening, as the clock says. There was a taxi parked in front of the office building. If I had not learned my lesson from what happened last time, I would have entered it again without much hesitation. Another had stopped when they passed by me; this one, I am sure, is safe to ride.
Halfway through the ride, I saw the restaurant where the three of us—Vic, Felix, and me—had met one night and where that incident had happened. I told the driver to pull over and quickly got off the vehicle.
When I flung the door open, the attached chime jingled. The restaurant seemed a little busy at this hour; people were coming in and going out. I proceeded to the counter. I wanted to ask about the employee who gave us the contaminated drinks that night. My eyes squinted, trying to get a good look at each of the employees' faces, soon realizing that there was no point in doing that, as I had only heard her voice.
