PROLOGUE
Each year you move.
You see it as a way of healing (escaping) any mistakes of the haunted past. A good outlook but also looked down upon by society. Most people would just see you as an indecisive person who wastes money. Probably not a good person to settle down with either.
Not like you care that much...
“Will that be all?”
You flinch. A sort of nauseating feeling washed over you as you regain focus. The loud voices and sounds welcome you back into this harsh reality. The (sympathetic) smile from the barista medicating the ill.
“Yeah. Yeah, uh that’ll be all.” The migraine grows heavy as you fetch your wallet, paying for your order. Caffeine helps with migraines. At least, just enough for it to become more tolerable... That’s why you’d probably become broke with the amount of coffee you buy.
Coffee maker... And beans... Cheaper.
Your eyebrows mold in irritation as you add to your shopping list. The word, “beans,” repeat in this distant voice. You usually grow annoyed with those who whisper to you too much. But, you've also learned that they’ll bother you even more if you acknowledge their existence.
With a heavy sigh and click of your locking phone, you raise your awareness. Your eyes fall into a squint as the lights mush with these sand-like shadows. You usually don't like being around so many of them. All of their personalities clash with each other, making it overwhelming for you if they were to notice. But, life won't just accommodate you.
Gosh. If it did you couldn't imagine how much easier it’d be to function.
“Order for — [Na—].”
In haste, you arrive at the counter. The barista hands you the cup of coffee, sharing a smile with your forced one. “Your coffee and a pastry.”
“I didn't order a pastry-”
You frown as you hold the bag. It smelled delightful, drool-worthy, but it doesn't belong to you. “It's free. You seem a little pale hon. A dear like you needs to stay fed and healthy.” A thought of hesitance bit your cheeks. Your eyes- distant, rose to catch hers. It was a regretful decision within seconds but, “thank you, really.”
“Of course.”
The coffee was gone in a couple of big swigs. The taste, strong and bitter poisoning your tastebuds; the heat burning them. You wished it was your eyes that experienced this torture. That these visuals would be burned away without worry.
You looked at her... A... Friend?
A familiar voice questions as you lock your apartment door. The cup tossed into the trash as the pastry is placed on the counter. “No.” The shadow seemed to whine with an odd sound, discouraging your decision.
“Shut up. You’re dead.“
Harsh.
They whispered before disappearing.