118 – They Saw

I knew before I even left the house. The smell was in the air. The whole town had seen it. The entire village had spoken. And now, every step of mine seemed to be heard by everyone.

The video. Damn video. I didn’t need to see it again to remember: my hands tremble, nails stretching under the yellow light of the street, the grave sound stuck in my throat. Nothing else was needed. That was enough to confirm what they always wanted to believe.

I opened the cafeteria early, before sunrise. I thought that if I was busy, I might be able to shut my mind. The routine has always been my shelter. Turn on the machines, prepare the beans, and smell the aroma of coffee filling the space. But even the smell looked different today. Sour. As if the air itself rejected the normality I was trying to impose.

The bell rang. A customer came in—one of the regulars, a lady who came daily to ask for the same cappuccino with cinnamon. She did not smile. He did not ask about the weather nor complain about the