Page 4 of No One But Me
"Okay," I said.
"I'll call you next week. Let you know how it shakes out."
"Sure."
"Love you, kiddo."
The line went dead.
I stood there with the phone against my ear, listening to silence.
I moved through the motions. Counted the drawer a second time—same forty-three dollars. Logged it in the notebook. Tucked the bills into the deposit bag I'd take to the bank tomorrow morning, if tomorrow still felt real after tonight.
The cart went back to the stockroom. Book by book, returned to their places. My hands moved independent of thought, muscle memory from a thousand closing shifts guiding them while my mind stayed blank and humming.
The checklist on the wall got its marks. Register: closed. Floor: swept. Bathroom: checked.
The second lamp clicked off. Darkness swallowed the store—total and immediate. Only the streetlight through the front window remained, painting everything in shades of grey and amber. The shelves became canyon walls. The reading nook disappeared entirely.
I grabbed my coat from the hook behind the counter. Canvas, worn soft at the elbows. Mom's jacket, actually—too big in the shoulders, too short in the sleeves. I'd never replaced it.
My arms slid through. One sleeve. Then the other.
Tap.
The sound came once. Clean. Precise.
Knuckle against glass.
Not the front window. Not the door.
The alley window.
My breath stopped. Not a gasp, not a hitch—just stopped, like someone had reached into my chest and gripped my lungs in a fist.
I stood frozen, one hand still holding my coat closed. The storage room door sat ten feet away. That warped window beyond it, dark and distorted.
My throat worked. Dry. Wrong.
"Hello?"
The word came out barely above a whisper. A question posed to the dark by someone who already knew the answer.
Silence pressed back.
Then—footsteps.
Gravel crunching. Slow. Measured. Each step deliberate, unhurried. Moving away from the window, away from the building. Down the alley toward the street.
Not running.
Not fleeing.
Just... leaving.
Like he'd gotten what he came for. Like this was exactly how he'd planned it. Every second calculated, every movement intentional. Like he had all the time in the world. And he wanted me to know it.
The footsteps faded. Swallowed by rain and distance until only the drumming on the roof remained.
