Her Love with Death

I don’t know when this feeling happened. This overwhelming sense of dread for what’s to come next. I don’t know if it was when I lost my family. Or my best friend. Or myself.

I find myself in the worst place possible now, and the only person that can help me is him. He, who tore my whole life apart in a matter of seconds. He, who played with the strings of my fate and has now trapped me in a life with only one path left. He, who must also die. And he will take me with him.

~

On my walk to work is the best coffee shop in the city. It’s cute and quaint, and just out of the way enough that tourists don’t find themselves there very often. The shop is decorated with mismatched furniture and eclectic décor, and lots of mirrors that help brighten the place up when the sun shines. It’s my favorite place to be away from home.

“Same as always. El?” asks Lucy, the owner and morning barista.

“You know me well enough by now to know I don’t deviate,” I say as I go to my corner table.

I tend to leave for work early enough in the morning to spend some time in the coffee shop before I head to the subway. As I sit down, I pull my book out of my bag to read a few chapters and wait for Lucy to call my name to get my coffee.

When you go to the same place all the time, usually you see the same people. Evan is by the window, his tortoise shell glasses on the table and shaggy brown curls are a tussled mess. He’s slumped over his laptop like he’s been here since yesterday. Tasha and her girlfriend Grace occupy the gold velvet sofa today. She and Grace are always cheerful with other patrons, though today Grace looks a little sad. There’s another person here that I’ve seen quite a bit, but I don’t know their name. Their black hair is short with a fade, they wear rimless glasses with large circular lenses and a shirt in a different shade blue every day.

But in the opposite corner from me is a man I’ve never seen before. I’d like to assume he’s a tourist, but he looks comfortable. Most tourists look somewhat confused and like they’re in a rush to get to their next destination. But not this man, he’s lounged in the wide green settee that matches his sweater with his small espresso cup and saucer on the table next to him and a book in his hand.

“How pretentious,” I whisper to myself.

“El! Coffee for ya, love!” Lucy announces.

As I get closer to the counter where my cup is waiting, I catch a glimpse of that man getting up.

Please don’t approach me. Please don’t approach me. Don’t approach me.

To my relief he gathers his belongings, nods Lucy goodbye, and heads out the door.

“Luce, who was that man? I’ve never seen him before.” I say as I squint my eyes at his retreating form.

“I’m not sure. He said his name was Jay, I think. I’ll ask Micah later if they’ve seen him before.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that Lucy. I’m just being nosy,” I look back to the door the man left from. “You know, I’m just used to seeing the same people in here all the time. He’s new. That’s all.”

Lucy squints her eyes at me like she’s thinking of saying something but then only says, “Okay, well if I find out more, I’ll keep it to myself then.”

I’m still looking out the window, “Yea, Lucy. Sounds great. Thanks.”

I grab my cup and make my way back to my seat; I still have some time to kill before I need to catch the subway. Settling back into my seat I sip on my coffee Lucy just made for me.

Perfect, every time.

~

My walk from the coffee shop to the subway is relatively short. I passed a flower shop, a bookstore, and a new café. The rest of the street is residential and not something I take much time to take in.

The subway is busy today, too many people getting on and off. It’s unsettling. My ride is normally quiet. Well, as quiet as a subway can be. But today it’s standing room only and there’s so much noise.

I start to get the feeling that my day is just going to be off kilter. I don’t get the feeling often but today is one of those days. First, Grace looking sad when she’s normally very cheerful; then the strange man in the corner of the coffee shop; now the noisy, busy subway. Something just isn’t right.

As if right on cue, something wet is on my leg and running into my high heeled shoe. I look in front of me and there’s a small child with a fishbowl screaming something unintelligible. Realizing that this child’s fishbowl is no longer holding water nor a fish, I look around. Just to the right of me is a gasping Beta fish. I do my best to reach the fish, not really having a plan of action should I grab it.

Crouching is the best approach I can take to reach the fish in this packed subway car. Luckily the fish is not far from me, and I grab it gently. I stare at the fish in my hand as I stand and look to put it back in the bowl only to find myself in a now empty car.