Well, anyways, this is still only the second draft, so it's not perfect.
The tears that I have been holding back, slip down my cheeks, and I quickly wipe them away, not wanting to give him another reason to touch me, hold me, treat me like a child.
That is when we hear it.
The crash. Pris.
I moved down the aisle, hoping to get a closer look. Low followed close behind, as always. But I couldn't think about him. I had to think about watching for my cue. I had to think about running, running, running, until my legs gave out.
Pris was laying on the ground, flipping like a fish out of water. Her eyes rolled back, the whites pointed to the ceiling.
She was having a seizure. I wasn't sure if that was what happened when someone went into epileptic shock, but the clerk was buying it. His face was painted with concern. Real, genuine concern.
"Are you okay?" he asked, moving from behind the counter. It was a stupid question to ask, but his heart was in the right place.
Too bad ours wasn't.
"I'm going to call ambulance." The clerk assured Pris, his eyes wide. He ran behind the counter and pulled the cordless off the wall. As he dialed the numbers, Pris winked. That was the signal. She even did it twice, to make sure I didn't miss it.
"Come on," Low whispered, his breath tickling the back of my neck. He slipped his hand into mine, and squeezed. This time I didn't pull away. A part of me knew that I needed his touch. I needed his nearness, because without it I would fall apart. I squeezed back, and then his lips were above my ear once more, kissing the little piece of skin there. "Ken, come on. You can do it."
In my peripheral vision, I could see Pris, lying on the ground, quivering and quaking like a restless wave.
The paramedics wouldn't be the only ones to show up.
Low seemed to realize this too, because he nudged me towards the door.
"Run," he said, firmly.
"But Lowell..." I started.
"Run," Low shouted.