Allegedly, today is the meteorological start of Fall. Our heat index is forecast for 105 so you can’t prove that by me. But it is Wednesday, which means time for #1lineWed THEME and inspiration. Today’s prompt is **FALL**. There’s a lot falling into place with Ronan, the heir apparent of the O’Hara faction of the Irish mob, and Maura, the principled Assistant District Attorney. This snippet is fairly self-explanatory for a totally random bit of wordage. 😉
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Maura debated her next course of action. She’d spotted the tail within moments of leaving her office. She’d called out her farewells to the remaining staff and took the stairs instead of the elevator. By the time she arrived on the corner of Sudbury and Cambridge, she felt the prickle on her neck. The guy wasn’t very good. He also didn’t work for her boss or the cops. Given the case she’d just been assigned, that did not bode well. Part of her wanted to turn around and confront the guy but that would be playing into their hands. She wasn’t about to fall for that trick.

“Follow your routine,” she muttered. She walked down Cambridge to the T station and past it to the Starbucks. Routine. She always stopped in Starbucks when she left the office to grab a drink for the ride home.

The line was fairly short and she tried to maintain a neutral expression as everyone in front of her ordered pumpkin spice lattes. It might be almost Fall, and Autumn was her favorite time of year, but pumpkin was for pie and bread, not coffee. She offered herself a mental smirk as she ordered a mocha frappucino. It was warm. She was thirsty. But she didn’t miss the flavored coffee irony.

Backtracking, she entered the T station and headed down to the platform. Her shadow was still there. She wanted to give herself a slap to the forehead on his behalf. The guy wore a nylon tracksuit. Hello, this is the Eighties calling. We want our clothes back. The train pulled into the station and she stepped onto the car and turned so she could watch the guy scramble on-board through a different door. At the next stop, a young man large enough to be a linebacker for the Patriots got on and stood next to her, blocking her view. Maybe she could use him as a diversion, dashing off at the last minute and losing the thug on her trail.

In a completely irrational frame of mind, she wanted to run across town. To South Boston. To Ronan. That was so wrong on so many levels. Ronan was the enemy. Ronan was a criminal. She prosecuted criminals.  She put criminals in prison. She did not fantazize about sleeping with one of them.

No. No running to Ronan. She didn’t like Ronan. Didn’t know Ronan. Didn’t trust Ronan. She was not falling in love with Ronan. When the train arrived at the Copley station, she disembarked, rode the escalator up to street level, hit Dartmouth Street and headed west toward the Charles River. Maybe she’d change when she got home and go for a run along the Esplanade. She laughed out loud, thinking of her tail huffing and puffing along in her wake, all dressed up in that ridiculous tracksuit. Determined to make his life miserable, she walked briskly. She might be in high heels but she could run a 4-minute mile in these shoes if she needed to.

The man was out of view as she turned up the front walk of her Beacon Street building. She was lucky. Her flat had its own entrance. She veered away from the main entrance, skipped down a few steps and slid her key into the deadbolt lock. Slipping through the door, she closed it behind her, locked it back, and peered out the curtains. No sign of the man she’d started calling Sloppy Joe. With a sigh of relief, she kicked off her shoes, turned around, and screamed.

A man sprawled on her sofa. A man in an impeccable—and expensive—suit.

Her voice squeaked a little when she said his name. “Ronan O’Connor.”

“Maura Brannigan.” His didn’t.
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I will say that their paths have crossed more than once, and Maura has something of a fangirl crush/fixation where Ronan is concerned. Also, this won’t be the first time he breaks into her apartment. 🤣 Writers, any fall words to share? Readers, do you like Fall?