Coffee or Tea (Artskaf)

[Nora Saint-Clair]

Nora needed to leave. Badly. She could feel the cracks forming: her carefully constructed walls starting to give way under Claude’s gaze. One more moment of that genuine, knowing look and she’d spill everything, all of it, and she wasn’t ready for that. Not here. Not now. But then his hand closed over hers.

She froze. Her lips parted, a protest rising, but nothing came out. Just air and the weight of things unsaid.

Then the floor trembled.

A low rumble vibrated up through her shoes, subtle at first, then sharp enough to still every conversation in the café. Chairs scraped. Coffee sloshed. Heads turned, hers among them. That wasn’t a natural quake. She was sure of it. She scanned the room, heart rate ticking up, not out of fear, but calculation. Whatever that was, it hadn’t come from below, but it came from somewhere. The question of where hooked into her like a fishhook behind the ribs.

But before she could do anything, she heard her name called out. 

Nora turned, fixing a smile to her face like war paint. If she had to play this game, she’d play it flawlessly.

“Well hi there!” she said, stepping into the role like slipping into heels. “Can’t believe I didn’t see you earlier. What a surprise!” Her tone was bubbly, warm, even if her eyes flicked with the edge of calculation. “We definitely need to catch up soon. But I’ve got to run. Take care, okay?”

She pivoted on her heel before the girl could get a word in. Every second counted.

She felt Claude’s attention burning into her back, but didn’t look. Instead, she gave him a look over her shoulder—brief, sharp, and unmistakable. Follow me. I’ll explain everything.

Maybe.