<strong>Danielle Avena<br/>San Francisco Magazine, 243 Vallejo St., East San Francisco<br/>Alone</strong><br/><hr/><br/><em>7:30am...</em><br/><br/>Danielle hopped on her bike and rode downhill on relatively empty streets. Most of vehicles were trucks with brand name vendors on their sides, heading towards the same direction. She wondered if they were going to that shopping centre she and the other were going to.<br/><br/><em>Around 7:40am...</em><br/><br/>She made it to the office building on Vallejo Street rather early, thanking the the roads for being empty. She took her bicycle into the lobby and up the elevator to the top floor. Her boss, the editor of the magazine, had called her rather early. She looked at her phone seeing no text or a response to her own text she sent last night. Danielle first parked her bicycle near her desk, which looked empty besides the stack of files on her keyboard. She was backed up on the articles she was supposed to consolidate, proofread, and send to her editor four weeks ago. Danielle took a deep breath as she put her stuff down, expecting another scolding from the boss lady.<br/><br/>She walked over to the enclosed office on the corner of the floor. After knocking, the editor called out, "Come in." Danielle opened the door and stood right near it as she closed it behind her. "Early for once, Miss Avena?" Due to that dreaded message that she deleted last night, her work had become less satisfying, to the point where she was late for work for the last three weeks.<br/><br/><strong>"I'll get working on those articles right away Mrs. de Pardo--"</strong>she started, but was cut off short.<br/><br/>"I didn't call you down here to scold you, honey. You know about that new shopping centre, the one with the Moroccan motifs?" the editor asked.<br/><br/><strong>"The one with an indoor and outdoor food court and a built-in theatre?"</strong>Danielle responded, clarifying with a question.<br/><br/>"Bingo. I did not consider you to do your photojournalist expertise over there, but we're shorthanded. Miguel and Katie's already interviewing the staff as they get ready for the grand opening, so I suggest you get your ass over there. Oh, and bring that old-fashioned camera with you instead. I'd like more sharper images this time, Avena!" the editor said, rather charismatically.<br/><br/>Hiding her excitement and surprise, Danielle simply managed a,<strong>"Right away, Sir--I mean, Ma'am!"</strong>The cons about being in a relationship with a military man. She went back to her desk to get her things, leaving the DSLR in its case and stashing it in a locked drawer, replacing the old-fashioned film camera that took up most of its space with the bag. The bag was more heavier, because it contained different-sized lenses and spare film cartridges. Danielle also left her bike at her desk, thinking the most fastest way to get to that shopping centre was by bus.<br/><br/><em>Around 8:50am...</em><br/><br/>The streets were packed with cars and bustling with activity because of the early morning rush hour and that it was the weekend. About thirty minutes into her trip on the bus, Danielle found that the traffic that was built up due to this new shopping center having its grand opening today was not going to let up. She was a half-mile from the place and the only option for her was to go on foot. With a heavier load and uphill climbs, she broke in a sweat trying to get up the hill. She had to take off her jacket and carry in her arms to properly ventilate. She started regretting her decision of a 'no' to Tristyn last night. If she said yes like everyone expected her to say, she wouldn't be here, walking up a hill in San Francisco with an old bag with an old camera in it. She would be on the back of Tristyn's bike, weaving through traffic like it was the end of the world, and she had to get to a destination quick for safety.<br/><br/>She made it to the shopping centre and had to squeeze through a massive crowd full of locals and tourist to get to where she needed to go. She need backstage access, but unfortunately, she didn't have the proper clearance and the paperwork to get by security. Fortunately her co-workers were there to let her in. Katie and Miguel were surprised that she came and thought that she would be in bed with her man at this time.<strong>"Long story guys, but don't we have a job to do?"</strong>she asked the two of them.<br/><br/>Miguel spoke up, "No need. We took on the bulk of the work, interviewing staff, even security of all people. We even got a chance to get a one-on-one chat with the guy who owns and runs this place. Get this, he's Moroccan, not some sleazeball Americano!" The trio exchanged laughed and went inside, which was virtually empty except for staff, security guards, businessmen and -women, and photographers and journalists. The air-conditioning kept the place cool, since outside, the weather was sunny, typical San Francisco weather. "The big man does a speech outside at around 9:00 and he should open the place ten minutes after that. In the meantime, why don't you get your camera out and snap a bunch of shots."<br/><br/>And that's what she did. Danielle covered the speech and opening ceremony and the cutting of the ribbon and the opening of the door. Up until her lunch break at 12:00pm, she would be up and about, her old camera in hand, snapping high-quality photos and even panoramas of the interiors, which were packed with guests.<br/><br/><em>Around 1:27pm</em><br/><br/>Miguel had opted for a late lunch break, offering to let the two young women of his group, Katie and Danielle to go on their lunch break at noon while he watched their stuff. When they got back, they felt it was somewhat hotter than before and even though their trip wasn't on an uphill climb, there were still breaking a sweat as they walked up the sidewalk to the entrance of the shopping centre. Along the way, the commotion on streets increased and they both looked around to see what what going on. Did somebody think it would be funny lighting a firecracker in a crowd of people? Danielle asked herself. That what it sounded like, but she and Katie were in a place where they could not see the transformers blowing.<br/><br/>Thinking this could be a potential story about some tourist drama, Katie pulled out her phone to snap a picture. Once it was out of her pocket, it died and started emitting sparks, startling her and causing her to drop it in a nearby stormdrain. "Shit! What the fuck was that?" she asked, bending over the sidewalk to see where her phone landed.<br/><br/>Danielle went over to pull Katie from the side, fearing some asshole who was rubber-necking the crowd to see what was happening could potentially hurt her. Just as she thought this, a screech of tires, the sound of glass shattering, and the sound of metal scraping metal erupted, revealing an incoming truck with a driver freaking out because his phone was sparking up. Danielle jumped out of the way, unfortunately, due to the sweat on Katie's arm, could not get a hold of her friend. She recoiled back, seeing the truck braking too late, coming into contact with the young woman, sending her flying to the sidewalk, limp and lifeless it seemed. The driver of the truck parked and got out and panicked, spouting, "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!" spouting more expletives at himself because he was distracted. Danielle got up to her feet rushed to her Katie's side. She was in pain, clutching her chest and twitching one leg. The other looked like it didn't move and looked broken.<br/><br/><strong>"Katie, Katie are you alright?!"</strong>Danielle shouts at her friend, but she fall in and out of consciousness. She turns to the man who's just as shocked as her.<strong>"Hey, hey, stay with me, please. You got to call 911!"</strong>he said to him, but he looked confused. Unbeknownst to Danielle, his phone emitted sparks just like Katie's and he threw it out the window before hitting the girl. She stood up, seeing chaos unfold. A glint of green caught her eye from the nearby intersection as she saw a motorcyclist get hit by a car, sending the rider to the pavement. She recognized the helmet and the mangled bike. She started running, calling out,<strong>"Tristyn! Tristyn!"</strong>