Time slowed to a crawl, my heartbeat thudding in my ears, entire body shaking while the squish-squish-squish sound of Ruth's sneakers drew closer. Any second now she'd pass the edge of her desk, close her safe, turn and-
And find me hiding in the worst possible place an idiot like me could hide in a (suspected) murderer's office. I clasped one hand over my mouth to keep from screaming as the first white toed foot appeared, the hem of her lab coat, big calf lined with varicose veins thicker than a pencil. Fascination and terror mingled as the scent of disinfectant traveled with her in a waft so powerful I choked on it.
I was so dead.
It was hard to register the sound of the office door opening while I lived in the surety of my own doom. It wasn't until a young man's voice said, "Ruth," that I gasped a breath before darkness could close in, the big, white sneaker and nasty purple ropes of vein turning away from me, the corner of her lab coat brushing the desk.