There's Always A Plot Twist | Wattys 2023 ✓

5| The Egg

The graveyard was cooler than it had been the many times Riley had visited before, which is partially her own fault for not bringing a thick enough coat.

However, it isn't the brittle kiss of the wind sending shivers down her arms but the collective presence of the dead surrounding her.

After a long night of partying that spilled over into the next day, the fresh smell of wet grass overwhelms the senses as three crows glide overhead.

Riley stands over the tomb stone with the name James Mitchell engraved in golden-

"Oh my god, grandpa, I'm so sorry." Riley gasps after heaving up the sins of last night, rinsing her mouth out with the bottle of water she bought on the way here before pouring the rest over the crime until it is no longer visible.

"Please don't tell Janet about this." she pleads, Janet being her mother's medium that she visits biannually to commune with the dead, have her tarot cards read and occasionally the odd bikini wax.

Without thinking, Riley pops three mints into her mouth, immediately regretting it when the water amplifies the minty taste. "What the hell is wrong with me?" she screams, riding out the pain in silent agony.

"You okay?"

Riley jumps, spinning around to put a face to the unfamiliar voice. "I'm fine." she replies, ready to throw her bag in a tree if he wants to steal her stuff.

"It's just...you're crying." he states, pointing at his face where the tears smear on hers.

Riley scrubs at her face, suddenly realizing how cold her hands really are. "I'm having probably the worst hangover of my life right now but I'm good, strange man I've never met before."

He puts his hands in the air before taking two steps back and although grateful, her suspicion of him doesn't go away.

Riley inspects the man in front of her as he looks past her across the field of tombs. He is wearing a nice-looking tailored suit that he pads out well, has nice wavy brown hair that frames his face and wears thin rounded frames not too different from Arlo's.

"So, who you here for?"

"What makes you think I'm here for somebody?" she replies, her defences putting her on high alert.

"I'm kinda hoping you're here for someone and not some weirdo who spends her mornings in graveyards...not crying?" he squints his eyes at her, tucking his hands safely into his pockets to keep them warm.

Riley rolls her eyes, annoyed by his bravado, knowing she would never have let this guy get the upper hand if she were sober. "My grandpa."

"You miss him?" he asks, looking down at the tombstone that she guides him towards.

"I didn't know him that well." she responds, noticing his red, puffy, eyes as the wind pulls back on his locks of hair. "A few vague memories is all I got."

"Then why would you come to his grave if he was practically a stranger."

"May I remind you, that you're the only stranger here." she scoffs.

He chuckles, the sound resonating deeply from his chest. "Well, that's not exactly true, is it?"

"How do you figure?"

"I don't know you either. You're a stranger to me. Maybe I should be the one afraid of you."

Riley smiles with her lips pulled tightly together, amused and annoyed by his quick witt all at once. "Perhaps you should be afraid of me." she only half jokes, prepared to throw hands if necessary.