Annie spun her head around. Left, right, back left again. Not a soul in sight.
How, she wondered. How’d she make it to this grassy little preserve?
Moments ago, she was in the middle of a busy street, nursing a severely sprained ankle. She heard a car horn blaring, glimpsed the rusted-out Buick bearing down on her.
Annie closed her eyes and gasped for air, fearing the worst.
But then came the pair of hands, strong and firm, wrapping around her and pulling her to safety.
Concerned citizen? Guardian angel? Fairy godmother?
Ghostly protector – yeah, she liked that one best…
The Weekday One Hundred 