I reach for a towel and freeze.
Something moves in the mirror’s corner.
Not a person—just a shape.
A shift.
Like light bending where it shouldn’t.
I whip around. Nothing.
No one.
Just a hook on the back of the door.
Just my reflection behind me.
I hold still.
Heart ticking faster now.
I walk to the door, and crack it open.
Damien’s in the kitchen, shirtless, coffee brewing.
He doesn’t look up.
Doesn’t move.
Just hums—a tune I know.
One I’ve heard whispered through vents.
Incy wincy spider…
But slower.
Mangled.
Different.
Off-key.
I grip the edge of the door tighter.
My skin prickles, but I shake it off.
It’s nothing. Just habit.
Just shadows.
I step out.
The apartment smells of coffee and rain.
It’s strange how normal it feels. How the morning hums with the illusion that nothing’s broken, that the air wasn’t thick with fear just hours ago. The hardwood under my bare feet creaks in all the usual places, and I move like a shadow through a life I’m not sure belongs to me anymore.
Damien glances over his shoulder as I enter the kitchen.
