under the lightbulb

day 1

The rain droplets tap roughly against the thick glass that serves as the barrier of the old coffee shop, and her drink begins to feel cold. The pastry before her in a porcelain plate doesn't even look scrumptious anymore.

Her phone lies on the table, and she's tapping her fingers against the ebony just an inch from her gadget, and her frail fingers go along with the rhythm of the rain.

Kiel was all I had, she thinks. Besides coffee and sweet treats, he was my escape.

He was the drug I couldn't quit.

Then one day, my supplier gave up on me.

Kiel was gone.

I went with him.

That day, it was raining as well. That awful, September afternoon when she would finally see him again with a positive attitude and a new ACDC record.

Then she didn't. She never did after the incident. But the catch was that nobody saw her again, as well.

So here she is, sat in a room full of caffeine and the strong odor that accompanies the beverages that she seems to crave every day. She loved the place so much she got used to everything.

Then something new happens, an out-of-the-ordinary occurrence that usually didn't happen at 5:38 p.m.

The bell rings.