Angela stood in front of the door. She still had no idea why she was here, but the note was clear. It was very important that she get here as soon as possible. She thought back, remembering how she got here.
She had just gotten home from work and had found the note amongst her mail. She didn't have a glamorous job, but it was fulfilling. She was a councilor at the high school and very good one at that. And she took her job very seriously. And to do that, she needed to look the part. So, she always dressed very conservatively, actually like most of the teachers. But she actually went a little further, wearing long skirts and wearing her light brown hair in a tight bun. At forty-two years old, she was pretty, but not sexy. That sort of thing didn't really interest her and even if it did, the cost would be far too high to make it happen. Both financially and morally. She had a strong distaste for women and girls that used sex as a tool to get ahead. And she always made it a point to lecture the female students at the school about it, and that included her own daughter Allison. Both her children attended the high school. Allison was 18 and a senior, and David was 16 and a sophomore. Both of them were as conservative as Angela, as far as she knew, and that had to do with her strict upbringing of them. Truthfully, she was pleased with the raising of her children. Allison was already thinking of becoming a missionary for their church. Angela wished she could be as active in the church as her daughter, but her job at the school was time-consuming. She just wished her husband could still be around. He died a while ago, back when Allison was six and David was four. Her son barely knew him and she always felt bad about that. They had so much in common.
Angela remembered sifting through the mail and seeing the note for the first time. It wasn't in an envelope. It was just a folded piece of paper. She opened it and saw that it was handwritten, but she didn't recognize the handwriting:
Please come to 158 Valley Drive. It's very important.
It wasn't signed and it wasn't addressed to anyone. But she knew, somehow she knew, that it was for her. That she was supposed to go to the address given. She knew where that was, although she never had a reason to go there. It was in the "bad" side of town. Truthfully, Glenn Heights was a wonderful place to live, but even the best places had their downside. And that was the west side. And running straight through the west side was Valley Drive.
But the note was direct. It was urgent that she get there as soon as possible. So, she dropped the mail on the kitchen table, turned and left the house. She didn't even check to see if her kids were there. She didn't even change clothes either.
And now standing in the small space between the rotting concrete stairs and the mildew-stained door, underneath the flickering fluorescent light, she was still dressed in what she wore to school that day: a conservative white starch blouse with a high collar, a gray skirt suit (the skirt came down to her ankles, as usual), and 2-inch heels (she never wore anything higher).
She raised her hand to the door and knocked.
A moment later, the door opened.
