Page 63 of Game Change

“Oh, damn.” I grab my phone, which was on silent, to find several text messages from Raven.

Raven: The news was wrong. We’ve already gotten three inches of snow.

Raven sent that text three hours ago. I open my blinds, and despite the darkness of night, I see a blanket of white. I glance at the streetlight, and I see that the snow is coming down fast. It looks like more than three inches.

Raven: There’s no way you can drive. Girls' weekend is delayed. Go home now!

That was an hour ago.

Raven: Answer me! Are you okay?

The last text was sent ten minutes ago. I dial her number.

“Please tell me your workaholic ass is home right now,” she says.

“Um, I’m in the office. I was working on some things and lost track of time. The weatherman said it wasn’t supposed to start until eleven p.m.”

“The weatherman must be a meteorology school dropout. It’s a mess out there. Seven inches already. It’s going to take you hours to get home.”

She’s right. The city streets are narrow, and with the snow, it will be impossible to get through.

“I’m fucked,” I say as I eye the small loveseat in the corner of my office. My stomach growls again, and I curse the stupid salad I had for lunch. “Let me call you back,” I say. “Maybe there’s a hotel around here I can stay in.”

“Okay, but don’t try and drive home. Worst-case scenario, sleep in your office.” She ends the call after I promise to call her back.

I leave my office's confines and realize there is no one here.

Of course not, you dummy. They all went home.

The kitchen is not only void of people but also does not have a scrap of food. There’s only water and a few cans of diet soda.

The only thing I have to munch on is some candy left behind on various desks and a pack of TicTacs in my purse. After downing a cold glass of water, my dire position has not changed.

I grab my phone to look up nearby hotels, but the closest one is three blocks away. I’d have to walk, which would prove difficult in these stiletto boots. The sneakers I have packed in my car won’t be much help either.

“Motherfucker,” I sigh as I stomp back to my office.

My heart jumps when I hear the ding of the elevator. I see no one when I stick my head out of my office. I hear footsteps and cover my mouth with my hands as I look around. There’s nothing here I can use as a weapon other than my stapler. I grab it and tiptoe out, only to feel someone tap my shoulder.

“Aah,” I scream as I turn to hit them with the stapler, but it falls to the ground.

“What were you going to do with that? Staple me to death?” My erratic heart rate slows down when I realize the voice belongs to Colin.

“Mr. Kincaid?” I ask. “What are you doing here? There’s a storm outside.”

“I think you can call me Colin,” he says. I eye him up and down. He’s in a long coat and snow boots as well as a knit hat and leather gloves. “And since you know there’s a storm, why are you still here? I thought you left hours ago,” he says.

“I was in my office working and lost track of time. The weatherman said the storm wasn’t supposed to start until tonight. Why did you come back to the office? How did you get here?” Then, a thought hits. “Maybe it’s not so bad, and I can go home?”

I don’t give him time to answer as I return to my office to gather my things.

He follows me. “It’s a disaster. The streets are blocked, and they are asking everyone to stay off the roads.” Any hope of getting to the safety of my warm condo fades before my eyes.

“Then how did you get here?”

“I live across the street,” he says. “Come on. You can stay with me.”

I’d rather sleep in my car and potentially freeze to death.

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