Free The Girl in the Gray Sweatshirt by Ann Aguirre

THE GIRL IN THE GRAY SWEATSHIRT
    She’s alone today.
    But then, she’s always alone.
    My least favorite part of the job is investigation and
    reconnaissance. And that’s saying a lot because there’s
    so much to hate. Since losing my free will, I count the
    days. Minutes. Hours. Seconds. I know precisely how
    long I’ve been serving them. There’s no way to be sure
    how long it’ll last, though. How long I’ll live.
    If I was braver, I’d refuse an order and force
    Wedderburn to execute me. That might be an end to
    everything. Ironic when—at one time—I only wanted
    that. Now that I’ve lost al control, life has become
    precious. If I die, I won’t see her again.
    I’m not supposed to consider a catalyst’s thoughts and
    feelings, except to gauge how close they are to
    extremis. Like a good impartial observer, I watch and
    wait. It’s taken on a new dimension with her, however.
    I recognize the pain of her hunched shoulders; I’ve
    been where she is. I tel myself it’s just a job, but I
    want to cross the street and have her look at me.
    She’s heavy, but it’s not just physical weight. When she
    moves, she trudges, shoulders slumped, head down.
    From this angle, I can’t see her face, veiled by a curtain
    of brown hair. Even if she lifted her chin, she’d stil be
    hiding behind thick glasses. I’ve never seen her smile.
    It’s become an impossible dream to me, imagining
    situations where I could make her laugh.
    Wedderburn would kill me; I’m not allowed to reveal
    myself until it’s time to offer a deal.
    But
    I
    want
    to.
    Her steps are aimless; she doesn’t seem to have a
    destination in mind. It’s a crisp fal day and she’s
    wearing a gray hoodie that would fit a person twice
    her size. The sleeves slip down over her hands. They
    look small. If we measured, I could wrap my fingers
    half again on top of hers. Her pants are just as baggy,
    like she wants to disappear inside her clothes. I
    remember that feeling so well, wishing invisibility was
    real and that nobody would ever look at me again.
    I have on a light jacket, a cap pulled down, and
    sunglasses. Days like this, I feel like a celebrity hiding
    from the paparazzi, but real y, I just have to make sure
    one girl doesn’t notice me. It’s not tough, as she barely
    glances up when she crosses the street. I’m tense,
    watching her. Wedderburn wouldn’t want me to let
    her die, especial y due to her own negligence. He has
    plans for her.
    Somehow she reaches the sidewalk where I’m
    standing without getting run over. This feels like a
    miracle, considering her distraction. Did I miss
    something? What happened? According to my best
    estimate, she won’t hit extremis for months. Which
    makes this assignment even shittier; I have to watch
    her get sadder and sadder, until she feels there’s only
    one way out. With every fiber of my being, I want to
    step in. To tell her she’s not alone.
    But I’m afraid. Wedderburn’s hinted that he has ways
    to make me suffer, even after death—it’s not the final
    exit I’m betting on. And I can’t take the chance he’s
    tel ing the truth.
    She passes me without a second look. No surprise, the
    decent weather means there’s a fair amount of people
    walking, clustered on corners and waiting for signals. I
    wait until she’s two hundred feet in front, then I strol
    after her. To the casual observer, it seems that she’s
    window shopping. She pauses now and then, but I can
    tel that she’s not looking at anything on display.
    Instead she’s tear-blind, surreptitiously wiping her
    cheeks with bare fingertips. Either she doesn’t have
    any tissues or she feels like digging them out would be
    an admission of weakness.
    Why are you crying? Would you tel me if I could tap
    you on the shoulder like a normal guy and ask, “Are
    you okay?” Probably not. From what I’ve gleaned
    about her character, she’d get embarrassed and run.
    Then an idea occurs to me. Wedderburn wil punish
    me if he