Clyde reached the line of parked cars, his boots crunching softly against the gravel as his sharp eyes swept left and right.
Nothing. Micah was nowhere in sight. The crunch of his own footsteps echoed too loudly in the silence, making him feel more alone. His heart began to race as he moved between the cars.
"Where did you go…" he muttered under his breath, frustrated.
With a flick of his thumb, Clyde turned on his phone's flashlight. A thin, pale beam lit up the air around him, cutting through the dark.
He began searching. He could've called others to help. But he didn't. He couldn't. Micah wouldn't want others searching for him, wouldn't want them to see him vulnerable, possibly embarrassed. No, this wasn't about efficiency. This was about doing it right.
Well, this was his own fault.
