REKINDLED || Completed

3

🌸🌸🌸
Three
🌸🌸🌸

"Plain black coffee, just as you like it"

"Thanks Harry," Asher pulled a small smile at the man's kindness.

Asher managed a small smile, a barely-there curve of her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The warmth of the cup seeped into her fingers, grounding her for a moment. It was an odd kind of comfort, familiar yet fleeting.

She used to have two people who cared. Now, she was down to one.

"What's wrong?"

She sighed, staring into the swirling steam.

"Life"

Harry gave her a knowing smile, the kind that came with age and the weight of having seen too much. His youth had been claimed by time, but the glint in his amber eyes never faded.

"Been there," he shrugged "It's all good, you know. HE has your back. Always" he encouraged, pointing up.

HE.

Of course.

Everyone but her believed in some benevolent force hiding behind the clouds, watching, waiting, caring. How lovely.

"Again. Thanks"

"Don't mention. I'm always here if you need to talk"

She gave a tight smile...an uncertain one.

She had only started opening up to Laramie, until she left. As it stood, Asher wasn't sure she wanted anyone hearing her boring tales.

She had only just started opening up to Laramie, until Laramie left. Asher wasn’t sure she wanted to risk that again. Besides, who would want to hear the same tired, bitter stories? Even when Harry, the first person she met when she moved here, offered a listening ear, she hesitated.

Harry was everyone’s guy—the man who made The Bean House feel like home to so many. And everyone knew The Bean House. Everyone knew it had the best coffee.

"It's the way his works are very exquisite..."

Harry’s voice drifted over from another conversation, piquing her interest. Normally, she would have ignored it and walked away, but something in his tone made her pause.

He looked up and smiled at her, gesturing to the phone in his hand.

"It's this phoenix guy," he said with a shrug.

Asher swallowed slowly, forcing herself to glance at the screen. The image staring back at her was familiar—too familiar.

The most recent town hall vandalism.

Her painting.

"Police have been on his tail for months! He's good, really" the other man said between sips of coffee.

At least they thought it was a he.

"Yeah..." She averted her eyes, her heart thrumming in her ears "Bye Harry"

She waved, leaving before the tension in her chest could unravel.

The Bean House had been a second home. She had spent countless hours in its warmth, drowning in bittersweet coffee and pretending life wasn’t as unbearable as it was. But now? Now she felt exposed.

Her beaten-up Converse scuffed against the pavement as she walked, kicking up dust along the stony sidewalk. Her grey eyes flickered over Birchwood Bay, watching as life carried on without her.

People laughed. People smiled. They walked with purpose, their steps peppy, their gazes bright. They had things to do, places to be. They were happy.

The sight made her lightheaded.

She could disappear from this town, and no one would notice.

The tide of life would wash over her absence like she had never been there at all. Birchwood Bay didn’t stop for the ones who got left behind.

That's how fast the tide swept across the town.

She could paint her sorrow on every wall, scream into the void, or walk down the street dressed as a clown—no one would care.

Because the world kept spinning.

Asher's footsteps slowed as she neared the town hall. A small crowd had gathered, their eyes fixed on her work.

The one everyone in town was talking about.

BENEATH.

A girl with one eye caging a smaller, more terrified version of herself.

A silent message: There is always more to people than it seems.

She stood at the curb, waiting for the light to change. The crowd buzzed with curiosity, their gazes dissecting every brushstroke. Some admired it. Some took photos. Others looked disappointed, like they had expected something more.

Asher almost smiled.

They didn’t know. They would never know.

The light turned, and she stepped forward, crossing the street toward yet another wasted hour and a half in a dull anatomy lecture.

She hated life.

---

Author: The size of this chapter is deliberate. I will continue in the next.

Please drop a vote and comment. Thanks