"Hey, John," a voice calls from behind and I curse under my breath. I was hoping to get to my car before he'd followed me downstairs.

"Sorry, Winston, I have somewhere to be," I pant, stealing a glance at him. His face is red, not from the heat, but from our boss yelling at him for the last 10 minutes.

"Where have you got to be? You never go anywhere," Winston protests, and then his voice lowers, "you kind of threw me under the bus back there, man."

"Sorry, Winston, I don't have time to talk right now. I'll see you tomorrow," I say, jogging to my vehicle.

I sigh as I shut myself into my Jetta, avoiding eye contact as I drive past my friend. It's not like I lied, I just let our boss think that he miscalculated the numbers, not me. What was I supposed to do? I've never been one for confrontation, he knows that.

I'm waiting to turn left into my apartment when I see it, a dark ominous cloud hanging over the outskirts of town. I squint into it, I've never seen clouds so dark before, the blackness is so full it feels supernatural.

An aggressive honking snaps me out of the trance and I hit the gas hard, causing my car to shudder and squeal its way into the complex. I groan when I find my parking spot once again inhabited. I peel around and reverse into my roommate's spot on the far end of the lot.

"Fucking Mathews," I grumble as I pull my briefcase out of the trunk. I think of a new curse for Mathews for every extra step it takes to my front door. Letting myself in with a huff, I find the culprit lounging on the couch with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

"Mathews, you parked in my spot again."