Sara awoke to the sound of rain tapping against her window, a constant rhythm that had become as familiar as her heartbeat. The dim light of dawn filtered through the gray clouds, casting her apartment in a soft, muted glow. The air smelled faintly of damp earth, and the chill of the room made her pull the covers tighter around her.
Her thoughts were sluggish, tangled in the remnants of last night's encounter. The woman's cryptic words—Keep your eyes open—echoed in Sara's mind like an unsettling whisper. Even now, hours later, the words lingered in the corners of her thoughts, a constant presence she couldn't shake.
With a quiet groan, Sara dragged herself out of bed, her feet hitting the cold floor with a soft thus. The apartment was still and silent, a stark contrast to the storm outside. She moved through her morning routine in a daze, mechanically brushing her teeth, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail, and getting dressed in the same dark jeans and oversized sweater she always wore. There was a certain comfort in the routine, in the familiarity of it all. But today, even that felt off. Her movements were slow, her mind drifting.
She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror for a moment longer than usual. The face looking back at her was familiar but distant. Sara Grey. The girl who dreamed of becoming an artist, of finding something more than the small, ordinary life she'd built. Yet, as the days passed, the distance between her dreams and reality only seemed to grow.
The rain outside had turned heavier, the steady beat of it against the window almost deafening now. She sighed, grabbing her things and heading out the door. There was no escaping it. The world outside her apartment awaited her, with its routine and its distractions.
At The Velvet Brew, the coffee shop was quieter than usual this morning. The usual hum of conversations was replaced by the soft sound of the espresso machine and the occasional clink of a spoon. Sara moved behind the counter with practiced ease, her fingers moving to prepare drinks while her mind still wandered. She couldn't seem to focus, even though it was her most familiar place in the world. The smells of fresh coffee beans and pastries, and the steady rhythm of her work, usually put her at ease. Today, they only serve to heighten the tension gnawing at her.
"Good morning, Sara," Brian greeted from the counter, his usual easy smile present, though his eyes seemed to notice her distracted state. "You look like you didn't sleep well. Everything alright?"
Sara gave him a distracted smile. "Yeah, just a little tired. You know how it is."
Brian didn't push, but there was something in his gaze that told Sara he wasn't buying it. He leaned against the counter, watching her as she prepared the morning rush of drinks. He was one of the few people who really seemed to notice when something was off. He'd always been there—steady, reliable. She couldn't remember a time when Brian hadn't been part of the coffee shop's rhythm.
"I get it," he said after a beat, his tone softening. "If you ever need to talk, you know where I am."
Sara gave him a quick nod, her fingers brushing the edge of a ceramic mug. "Thanks, Brian. I'll be fine."
The door to the shop jingled, and her attention was pulled away as a new customer entered. Sara automatically greeted them with the usual welcoming smile, her mind still not fully present in the moment. She handed the man his coffee, trying to ignore the unease that settled in her chest. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the woman—the way she'd looked at Sara like she knew something about her. Something that made Sara feel exposed and vulnerable.
The bell jingled again.
Sara turned, expecting another regular, but instead, the woman was standing there. Her presence filled the room immediately as if the very air shifted around her. She was wearing the same dark coat from last night, her expression unreadable as she stood by the door. For a moment, their eyes met, and Sara felt the same prickling sensation from the night before. It was as if she was studying her, searching for something just beneath the surface.
"Hello again," she said, her voice calm but with an edge of something Sara couldn't place.
"Hi," Sara responded, her voice softer than usual. She hadn't expected to see her again so soon. She glanced at the counter, realizing she had no idea what to say.
"I'll have the usual," she continued, her gaze steady on Sara. "And, if you don't mind, I'd like to sit by the window."
Sara nodded, her fingers shaking slightly as she prepared the drink. As she worked, she couldn't help but feel the woman's gaze on her, like a weight pressing down on her. There was something in the way the woman observed her, something that made Sara uneasy yet, at the same time, curious.
The woman settled into the window seat, her posture rigid as she pulled out a small notebook from her bag, flipping through the pages with methodical precision. Sara finished the coffee and placed it in front of her, careful not to make any sudden movements.
As she turned to walk away, the woman spoke again.
"You know," she began, her voice quiet, almost conspiratorial, "things aren't always what they seem. Sometimes, keeping your eyes open isn't enough. You have to listen to the silence, too."
The words hung in the air like a warning, but it wasn't just the words that made Sara's heart race. It was the way she said them—like she was revealing a hidden truth, one Sara wasn't ready to understand.
Sara forced a smile, nodding as she turned away, trying to mask the confusion and fear bubbling up inside her. But the woman's words stuck with her, burrowing deep under her skin, making her wonder if she was already in over her head.
Sara finished wiping down the counter, trying to focus on the routine, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the woman. The woman's presence still lingered in the air, like an unspoken tension. As she looked toward the window, her head bent low, completely absorbed in whatever she was writing.
Sara's curiosity gnawed at her, but she forced herself to look away. She couldn't afford to get distracted. The morning rush had finally died down, and the shop was quieter, leaving Sara with little to do except clean the counter and wait for the clock to trike closing time.
It wasn't until the woman got up to leave that Sara's curiosity got the best of her. She moved toward the counter, her eyes briefly flickering to the woman as she slipped her notebook back into her bag. She was about to turn toward the door when she paused, dropping a business card on the counter with a soft clink.
Sara blinked, confused. The woman didn't say anything, but the card was unmistakably hers—a simple, matte black design with only a name written in stark white letters: Elizabeth Rivers.
Sara picked it up hesitantly, running her finger over the smooth surface. The name felt like a key to something unknown. It didn't answer all the questions Sara had, but it was a start.
Elizabeth Rivers, The woman who walked into her life with cryptic words and unsettling glances. But what did it mean?
As the door shut behind her, Sara couldn't shake the feeling that she had just crossed a line into a world she wasn't ready to enter. The card felt heavier in her hand than it should have, and for the first time in a long while, Sara wondered if she'd been right to let her curiosity lead her down this path.