Emma Powers knew about the other girls. Anyone who lived or worked in downtown Austin had heard whispers. Like her, they all had used, gotten clean, and then vanished.

She left the hospital after pulling a twelve-hour shift. The nurse’s aide job had sounded like a step up when she had read the ad, but now she realized it was mostly babysitting. There was nothing cute about spoon-feeding adults or changing their soiled linens.

She was beat, her feet felt as if they were twice their normal size, and her back ached. Her boss had been promising her a schedule of four ten-hour days, but every time each new scheduling period came around, he could not make it happen. She was feeling like a putz and thinking maybe it was time to find a new job.

Emma shouldered her backpack and moved toward the bus stop in front of the hospital’s truck delivery bay. She was craving a coffee, but it would keep her awake most of the night, and what she really needed was sleep.

At the bus stop, she sat on the bench. Five minutes until the bus arrived. She slipped off her shoes and wiggled her toes. Cars passed. Hospital staff were ending and starting their days.

As she leaned back against the bench, she saw a man cross the street toward her. He wore a black hoodie, dark jeans, and athletic shoes. It struck her as odd that anyone would be wearing a jacket. Even this late in the day, it was warm and was going to be hot as hell. Lucky for her, she would be in her air-conditioned home soon and sleeping.

As he paused by her, he dug a fresh pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit the tip of one with a lighter. Inhaling, he clearly savored the smoke. The sulfur scents made her crave a cigarette herself. When she had first stopped using, she had smoked heavily because it calmed her and kept her mind off the constant craving that never really left.

But lately, she had been trying to taper off. Her asthma was getting worse, and the nurse at the urgent care had told her to choose between her lungs and the butts. So, she had only three cigarettes in what would be her last pack.

Emma moistened her lips, watching as the smoke curled around the man’s face. As if sensing her, he looked down, and their gazes met. He grinned. It was not a leering kind of look but friendly, even understanding. Sort of like, “I get you.”

He raised the pack and shook it gently. He was offering. She checked her watch. Four minutes until the bus came. Plenty of time to grab a smoke.

“I know the look,” he said. “Trying to quit.”

“Almost finished with my last pack.”