Back in her apartment, Janet kicked off her shoes and tossed her bag onto the couch. The space was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the building settling. She leaned against the kitchen counter, pouring herself a glass of water and staring at her reflection in the darkened window.
"Why him?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The city outside was waking up, but inside, she felt the familiar solitude creeping in. It wasn't loneliness—she had long since grown accustomed to being alone. It was something deeper. A gnawing sense that her life was heading toward a crossroads she couldn't avoid.
Janet walked over to her bookshelf, running her fingers along the spines of old texts and journals she had collected over the years. Many of them were remnants from her search for answers—books on mysticism, ancient philosophies, and reincarnation. But none of them had ever given her the clarity she sought.
Pulling out a worn leather-bound journal, she flipped through its pages, filled with handwritten notes and sketches of her visions. She paused at a blank page and wrote down the fragments of what she had seen that morning.
Mike. Bar. Strangers. Urgency.
The pen hovered in her hand as she debated writing more. But what was the point? She didn't need a journal to tell her what she already knew: her life was never truly her own. It was tied to forces she couldn't control, to moments that hadn't yet happened, and to people she didn't yet know.
Her phone buzzed on the counter, jolting her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen. It was Clara, her best friend, with a text that read:Coffee at the usual spot? You look like you could use it.
Janet smirked faintly. Clara always seemed to know when she needed grounding, even without knowing the full extent of Janet's strange reality.
On my way, she replied.
Twenty minutes later, Janet slid into the booth across from Clara at their favorite coffee shop. The aroma of fresh coffee and pastries filled the air, mingling with the low murmur of conversations around them. Clara took one look at Janet and raised an eyebrow.
"Rough night?" Clara asked, sipping her latte.
"You could say that," Janet replied, stirring her coffee absentmindedly.
Clara leaned forward, her expression softening. "You okay? You've got that look again."
"What look?"
"The one you get when you've seen something. Something you don't want to talk about."
Janet hesitated, debating how much to share. Clara was the only person who knew the truth about her visions, but even then, Janet rarely told her everything. It was safer that way—for both of them.
"I saw him again," Janet said finally.
"The guy from last night?"
Janet nodded. "But it wasn't... last night. It was the future. I saw us meeting again. He was looking for me, but there were other people around. People I didn't recognize. And I know—" She stopped herself, gripping her coffee cup tightly. "I know it's going to happen."
Clara studied her, concern flickering in her eyes. "You think he's... important?"
"I don't know," Janet said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I can feel it. He's not just some passing stranger. There's something about him. Something I'm supposed to face."
Clara reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "You'll figure it out. You always do."
Janet smiled faintly, but the unease in her chest didn't fade. For all her years of seeing the future, she had never felt so uncertain about what was coming next.
The coffee shop bustled around them, but Janet felt detached from the noise, her mind replaying the fragments of the vision like a film reel stuck on loop. Mike's hurried entrance. The strangers. The tension in the air. It all felt too vivid to ignore.
Clara leaned back in her chair, watching Janet carefully. "Do you want my honest opinion?" she asked.
Janet blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. "Sure."
"You've been running for so long—pushing people away, avoiding anything that feels remotely permanent. Maybe this Mike guy is different because he's supposed to be. Maybe you're not meant to run this time."
Janet frowned, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. "You make it sound so simple."
"Sometimes it is," Clara said, shrugging. "You can't keep living with one foot in and one foot out of life, Janet. At some point, you have to choose to stay."
Janet let Clara's words hang in the air, but a flicker of resistance rose within her. Staying had never been an option for her, not with the weight of her visions, the chaos they brought, and the consequences they left in their wake. She couldn't afford to let anyone get too close—not again.
But as much as she wanted to dismiss Clara's advice, she couldn't shake the feeling that this time was different. The vision had been too clear, too urgent. And Mike… there was something about him that felt inevitable.
Janet sighed, pushing her coffee cup aside. "I don't even know what I'm doing anymore, Clara."
Clara smiled warmly. "That's okay. Nobody does. But you'll figure it out."