I sank down shivering in the doorway. The alley smelled foul, but was dark enough to hide me. From them. I tried to slow my breathing. I'd just learned that in yoga class this morning. Felt like a thousand years ago.

My life had exploded before my eyes, just like the side of that guy's face. I should have known a guy like that wouldn't be interested in me.

I'd just been leaving the yoga worshop, when I felt someone take my arm and steer me over to the smoothie bar next door. I looked up at him, speechless. His intense blue eyes had me walking alongside him. He couldn't find a table away from the window. I remember now how nervous he seemed, scanning the room and the plaza outside as we talked.

"Hey," he leaned forward, "I'm Colin, and I have something for you."
I should have pulled away, but I hadn't had a date in a while. I was busy wondering if this could count as a date. I mean he held my hands, as he gave me the box and explained what it did. 
I tried to breathe quietly, I needed oxygen to analyse all this. I am good at analysis, not so much with emotions. Colin had this box. He believed in what it could do. So did the people who followed and killed him.  They were willing to kill to get it. Now they were chasing me.

He hadn't told me where or how he'd got it, or to whom I should give it. His time had run out. I needed more information to deal with this. But first, Breathe.
I pulled the box out of my pocket, the red velvet soft under my fingers. I turned it over, and searched for any writing on it. I shifted silently, until I caught some light. A small number was burnt into the velvet on the side of the box. On the bottom was the word 'Hitzelbergers'.

I cursed. I had left my bag under the table. No bag, no car keys, no housekeys, and no phone. I slipped the box back into my jacket  and found some small change - originally meant for granola bars after yoga.
So, I sat there and planned. Then I moved.

"Carsten Hitzelberger," a deep, melodious voice came on line. I was working on breathing after giving the receptionist the box number. I dropped another coin into the telephone, while waiting and looking at the Hitzelberger building across the square.

"Look," I started, "about that box..."

"It belongs to my brother, so I need to see you at once." My mind raced.

"Are you black, with long black hair and a brownish jacket?"

"Yeah, how..." I looked around for a camera.

"You're on the live newsfeedscreen. You need to get here now. You'll be safe here."

I pulled my shoulder-length twists out of the braid, and fluffed them out. I turned my jacket inside out.

"Give me two minutes."