He didn't answer or even slow down. He kept walking like I hadn't called his name.
I ran after him, my bare feet slapping against the pavement because I'd lost one of my heels somewhere between the bus stop and the police station and had kicked off the other one in the holding cell. "Hansel, please! I need to talk to you!"
He ignored me.
When he reached the building entrance, the doorman opened it immediately, greeting him with a respectful nod while barely glancing at me as I hurried through behind him.
We got into the elevator together, and I stood there breathing hard from running and watching him ignore me with such deliberate focus that it felt like another slap. He stared straight ahead at the polished metal doors, his jaw set and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and I wanted to scream at him or shake him or do something to make him acknowledge that I existed.
But all I could do was shift from foot to foot, unsure of what to say.
