Could It Be You? |✓

(32) The Walk Home

The soft jingling of bells heralds Emma's arrival to the store and jolts awake the storekeeper who seems to have dozed off on shift. Emma gives the man a small smile as she steps into the convenience store and heads straight to the snacks compartment. She grabs a few bags of sea-salted chips, two bottles of Fanta, and goes to the cashier for payment.

She plans on binge-watching a few horror movies tonight - she has a knack for doing that on sadder days. She glances at the clock on the wall, momentarily entranced by the rhythmic ticking. It is almost 1 am.

She returns to the sidewalk and trudges along, huddling her jacket closer to her body and bringing the hood over her head. Wearing only a thin jersey underneath is definitely too sparse for such a windy weather, and her body that is all sticky from dried up sweat only makes her even more uncomfortable.

She catches a movement in the shadows, ever so subtle, and freezes. Turning behind her, she sees nothing. She wonders if she's simply too tired and actually hallucinating. On second thought, she should be afraid of the night, shouldn't she? She has no idea if a dangerous person is going to appear out of the shadows, or if she is going to be mugged. There have been way too many of such cases in the news lately.

Maybe she should have let Joshua drop her at her place straight, instead of insisting on making a trip to the store. The few packets of snacks are definitely not worth her life.

She takes a deep breath and quickens her pace. Before long, a playground emerges in sight and she relaxes a little, knowing that her home's nearby. That is until she hears the skin-crawling creaks of a working swing which literally sends chills down her spine.

Her phone is out of battery so she can't call for help. Perhaps her only way out is to scream - if anyone can hear her at this hour. She deliberates if she should continue on her path, or backtrack. She decides on the former and takes a few tentative steps forward, until she sees the outline of a figure seated on the swing.

"Miss Emma Ryans," the figure says in a rather chirpy tone. It is the voice of a male.

Emma knows she should run, but her feet would not listen; they have been rooted to the ground.

He rises from the seat and the swing slowly comes to a standstill behind. He steps into the little light there is. Only then does Emma let her guard down as she registers the strawberry blonde hair and familiar face.

"Collin," she calls and inhales deeply.

"Hey! Why do you look so terrified of me?" he asks. He gives her a huge grin, expecting her to do the same. When she doesn't, his smile falters.

"Tell me how not to when it's the middle of the night?" she retorts, although she is so, so thankful he isn't someone more sinister.

His mouth opens to make an 'o'. "How have you been? You don't look too good." He narrows his eyes on her and tilts his head as he inspects her expression.

"Why are you here?" As soon as the words leave her mouth, Emma realises that there are so many ways to interpret that. Like, why is he at this location and why is he in this year, which he insists he does not belong?

"Just passing by! Having a field trip today," he answers as he shrugs. "FYI, I saw your future husband today!"

Emma lets out a sigh. She isn't in the mood for a guessing game today, not when she just made a full circle and came back to ground zero. It is difficult for her to entertain the thought that she is going to be married in eight months - that is not even mortally possible.

"Y'know, Collin, I'm really wondering if you're real right now, or whether you're just a figment of my imagination. Am I dreaming? I don't even know. I haven't been very sober for the past day." she blabbers, which to her chagrin, elicits a laugh from him.