NOBODY IS LOOKING AT YOU, I PROMISED MYSELF. Nobody is looking at you. Nobody is looking at you. But since my lies were not even successful enough to convince myself, I had to check. While I was waiting for one of the three traffic lights in the city to turn green, I glanced furtively to the right – inside the van, Mrs. Weber had turned her entire torso towards me. Her eyes were trying to pierce through mine and I quickly pulled away; I wondered why she didn’t take her gaze off me or why there was no trace of shame in her eyes. Was it no longer considered rude to stare persistently at others? Or was I now an exception to this rule?

Then I remembered that these windows were so dark that she probably had no idea it was me inside, let alone that I had caught her watching me. I tried to comfort myself with the fact that in reality, she wasn’t looking at me but at the car. My car. Sigh. I looked to the left and let out a groan. Two pedestrians had frozen on the sidewalk, missing their chance to cross, just as they were staring. Behind them, Mr. Marshall was staring with his mouth open through the window of his small souvenir shop. At least he hadn’t pressed his nose against the glass. Yet.

The light turned green and, in my rush to escape, I pressed the gas pedal hard without thinking – just as I would have pressed it to get my ancient Chevrolet moving. The engine roared like a panther out on the hunt and the car jerked forward so fast that my body was violently thrown back into the black leather seat and my stomach stuck to my spine. “Ah!” I gasped, struggling to find the brake. Without losing my composure, I barely touched the pedal. The car jolted sharply and came to a complete stop anyway.