It is dark. He lies, waiting, listening. The sounds are different. He tunes in, focuses his senses. Quiet streets outside, still in the city. Late. No, early. Very early. In a few seconds his eyes adjust to the dark and he can see the room he is in. It is a bedroom, familiar. The blinds have been pulled down but streetlight leaks in between the horizontal slats. Something stirs in his mind. He looks around for the person who called out to him, but the bedroom is empty and there are no sounds from beyond the door. Perhaps he imagined it. He has been in this apartment before. This is the apartment of the man in the brown jacket, the man with brown hair and the bruise healing over his left eyebrow. Get up, Ted. The voice again. A whisper over his shoulder, although he is still lying on the bed. Ted. This is Ted’s apartment. His apartment. He is that man. He is Ted. He knows the voice was speaking to him, to Highwire, the acrobat. He lies in the dark and waits and listens. Then he feels it.
