The violent, agonizing screech of braking tires shattered the quiet of the residential street. Passersby instantly turned their heads, their eyes anchoring to the sleek luxury vehicle that had pulled a reckless, diagonal park against the curb.
Charles Larry threw his door open and stepped out into the humid evening air. He looked undeniably handsome, yet the polished aura of a prestigious neurology resident had completely disintegrated; his hair was disheveled, his breathing shallow, and pure, raw panic distorted his features as he slammed his palms hard against a rusty metallic gate.
"Karis! Karis, please come out! We need to talk!" he yelled into the courtyard, his voice echoing sharply down the narrow street. A dozen neighbors were already leaning out of their windows to watch the spectacle, but he was entirely beyond the point of caring about his public reputation. "Karis! Please!"
