Brie sipped at the coffee. She had the feeling she wasn’t supposed to do that. It tasted foul, like rotten nothing. She looked down and, for a split second, saw a skull in the cream at the top. She set it down gently. It had frightened her, but she also had the sense that she was in a very delicate situation.

How was not clear. The diner seemed peaceful enough. A mother corralling her disobedient son. A waitress slicing up a cherry pie. A blind man reading a newspaper. Wait. Brie stared at him. He had to be blind; he wore the dark glasses and carried the right sort of stick. Yet, as soon as she looked he turned towards her. There was an image in his glasses, but just a slice of a reflection. It was gone a moment later. Another deathly face. She stood up. Everyone in the diner looked her way. Continue reading →