The shoelace saved her.
Cursing, Lovelace ducked down to retie her shoe, then fell forward onto her palms with a cry, as something whizzed through the air overhead and showered her with chipped stone from the wall in front of her. She scuttled sideways, eyes wide, chest heaving, mind whirring frantically to identify the threat. Someone was shooting at her?
It had all seemed so trivial. Take the bag. Drop it off. Make some cash. But then Roberta had suggested drinks and dancing, and she’d forgotten all about it. All about the man with the contemptuous eyes, and his warning.
(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: contempt, shoelace, trivial)