The way she listened. Really listened.
Most people wait for their turn to talk. But not her.
She makes me feel like I’m worth paying attention to.
I exhale slowly, shifting in my seat.
Get it together.It was coffee.That’s it.
By the time I pull into the driveway, I’ve almost convinced myself of that. Almost.
I siton the couch and grab my laptop, determined to be productive.
The first thing I do is check my emails. There’s a spreadsheet attached to one of them.
I open it with a sense of contentment. This is where I thrive. Numbers don’t change unless you make them.
They don't surprise you.
They don't look at you the way Violet does.
I don't think anyone ever has.
I stare at the screen.
Why am I still thinking about this?
I grit my teeth, trying to focus.
But the intrusive thought slips in anyway.Because she’s not like anyone you’ve met.
It’s accurate, annoying… and true.
I force myself to refocus, pulling up a client file. My eyes zero in on the numbers. Checking over the data.
It’s something real. Something I can connect to. Something I can control.
But even as I start working, my attention drifts back to her.
Her voice echoes inside my ears.“You think before you speak. You know what you want.”
My fingers pause over the keyboard. I frown slightly. That one sticks.
Most people don’t pick up on that. Hell, most people don’t care enough to try.
But she said it so easily. Like she already knew.
A slow, uneasy feeling settles in my chest.
Something about her is… off.
I think about lying in bed last night. That feeling again… like someone was watching me.
I stayed there for a few minutes, then got up to check my door. Mr. Pickles has gotten it open before. But this time, it was fully latched.
I checked under my bed. Inside the closet.
Nothing.
