Today was… strange. I woke up a bit later than usual, around 7:30 AM. I must've slept through my alarm. Rushed to the bathroom to wash my face, but as soon as the water touched my hands, I felt a sharp sting. I looked down and saw a small cut on the side of my left hand. It wasn't deep, but it was fresh enough to hurt. I stared at it for a moment, confused. Where did it come from? I don't remember hurting myself yesterday. I checked my diary entries from the past couple of days, but there was no mention of anything like this. Weird.
I didn't have time to dwell on it, though. I was already running late. Skipped breakfast entirely—no time to burn toast today—and got ready as quickly as I could. I made it to work just in time, thankfully.
The morning was uneventful, but around 10:00 AM, my stomach started rumbling loudly. I tried to ignore it, but the woman sitting next to me, Clara, heard it and chuckled. I felt my face heat up—embarrassing. She reached into her desk and pulled out a croissant, still in its wrapper. "Here," she said, holding it out to me.
I hesitated. "Oh, no, I can't take your food. What about you?"
She waved me off. "I'm good, really. I already ate. Take it."
I thanked her and accepted the croissant. It was buttery and flaky, and it made me unreasonably happy. Small acts of kindness really do go a long way.
At lunch, I returned the favor. I offered to treat Clara to lunch as a thank-you for the croissant. She agreed, and we went to a café nearby. It was… nice. We talked about random things—work, TV shows, the weather. She's easy to talk to, and I found myself smiling more than I have in a while.
Of course, when we got back to the office, the teasing started. "Looks like someone went on a little lunch date." one of the guys said, grinning.
I immediately felt my face heat up and waved my hands, trying to downplay it. "No, no, it wasn't like that," I said quickly, glancing at Clara to make sure she wasn't uncomfortable. But she just laughed it off.
The guys chuckled, and the moment passed, but I couldn't help feeling a little flustered. Clara's easygoing nature made it all seem like no big deal, though, and I was grateful for that.
The rest of the workday passed quickly. Clara and I said our goodbyes, and I headed home. As I walked past the alley where the murder happened, I saw him again—the man in all black. He was lurking near the police tape, just standing there, staring at something. I couldn't see his face because of the mask, but something about him made my skin crawl. I walked a bit faster, keeping my head down. He didn't seem to notice me, I.. hope so.
When I got home, I let out a sigh of relief. I was too tired to cook, so I made cup noodles and added an egg to make it feel slightly more substantial. As I ate, I noticed the trash bag by the door, all tied up and ready to be taken out tomorrow. I don't remember doing that. Did I do it last night? I must have, but it's strange that I can't recall. Oh well. I guess Past Me was looking out for Present Me. Thanks, Past Me.
After eating, I scrolled through my phone for a bit. Watched some memes, chuckled at a few, and then got lost in a rabbit hole of cute cat videos. It was a good way to end the day.
Now, I'm here, writing this. That cut on my hand is still bothering me. Where did it come from? And that man in black… I don't like how he keeps showing up. Maybe I'm overthinking it. Maybe it's nothing.
I'll try to sleep now. Hopefully, tomorrow will be less… weird.