Odds of Dying: Chapter Seven

     I stopped by the grocery store on the way home. Kenji had offered to buy me dinner to thank me for helping, but I took a rain check. I wouldn’t have been good company. I needed the solace that only my own special combo of sliced meats, veggies and cheese on sourdough could provide.
     When I pulled into the driveway, my house looked the same as it had when I’d left that morning, and Mitch was nowhere in sight. I trudged around to the back of the house, unlocked the back door and dumped my purse and groceries on the kitchen counter. How much longer was I going to have to use the back door? In daylight it wasn’t so bad, but I hadn’t liked finding my way in the dark the night before. Mitch hadn’t given me a timeline for replacing the door. What if I had to live with a non-functional front door for weeks? Discontent settled over me like fog over the Bay Bridge.