Fumbling with her keys Veronica thought long and hard. She’s lived in New Orleans all her life. She’d felt things before but never actually saw them. Sure she’d seen some odd and unusual things but it was New Orleans after all. But today she really felt them and that scared her. She didn’t want to believe. But doing what she does for a living it’s all around. Opening the door she went into her apartment and closed and locked the door behind her. She couldn’t sake the feeling that someone was watching her, following her. She wasn’t scared. She felt protected instead. Like they meant her no harm. Just wanted to make sure she got home ok.

Going to the fridge she pulled out a bottle of water. Walking to the living room she called out “Sam? Are you home?”. No answer. Her roommate must be out for the night. She never tells her were she’s going. Veronica was used to it by now. But she couldn’t help feel responsible for the girl who was 4 years younger and from a smaller parish outside New Orleans. She wasn’t used to the city and didn’t know it the way Veronica did and she felt uneasy not knowing were she was.

It was about midnight and she had to work at Madame Lacour’s from 9-3 tomorrow then she had a tour at St. Louis no. 1 that started at 6 tomorrow evening. She had informed the tourists to be there about 5:45. They’d meet at the front gates. Sam was the other tour guide on that night and would bring up the rear.

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