Page 71 of Problematic

“Your manners.”

Her eyes darted to the street. People passed twenty feet away and saw nothing but a woman pausing near a light pole. Shadows were useful that way. People wanted their mornings uncomplicated.

“At least twenty,” I said. “And an apology specific enough to prove you know what you did wrong.”

Her mouth opened. My nightmares explained better than I ever could. The shadows around her heels tightened. Her mouth closed and she nodded.

A minute later, she walked back into the coffee shop with all the grace of a condemned woman and placed a twenty in the tip jar.

Liv stared.

The woman said, “I’m sorry I made my bad mood your job to fix.”

Liv’s mouth parted.

“That is . . . weirdly specific.”

The woman swallowed. “It needed to be.” Then she left in a hurry.

Kalon’s mouth twitched on the feed.

Liv looked at him. “Did you do that?”

Kalon lifted both hands. “No.”

She stared at the door.

Then she stared at the tip jar.

Then at the front windows.

Then at Kalon again.

“What the fuck is happening today?” Liv asked.

Kalon glanced at the bills sitting in the tip jar, then toward the street where the woman had vanished at an impressive speed.

“I have no clue,” he said. “But I don’t want it to stop.”

Chapter 12

Liv

The next note appeared that evening. I found it after my shift, laid across the counter. My handwriting looked feral compared to his. Angry little letters, half slanted, one word underlined so hard it had dented the paper. His reply waited underneath mine.

Little Flower,

Still underlined. I rolled my eyes.

Your appeal has been received. I regret to inform you that the committee remains unmoved.

“Committee,” I whispered. “There’s a committee now.” The next line made my knees feel strange.

As for my handwriting, thank you. If I’m going to commit several crimes before breakfast, I prefer to do it with decent penmanship. Standards matter, even during an apparent psychological spiral.

I pressed the paper against the counter and laughed. He was funny. That felt unfair. Murderous masked stalkers should not have good comedic timing. I kept reading.

You asked me to talk. Fine, tonight. Perhaps we can revisit Page 243. I have questions.