Page 175 of What We Become

Silverware skitters in every direction with a metallic rainstorm sound that makes half the diner turn and stare.

“Jesus—sorry,” a man’s voice says.

My breath is trapped somewhere in my throat. I stagger back, staring past him—past the shoulder I just hit, past the booths, past the door, the window, the street.

The sidewalk across from the diner is empty.

No cardigan. No floppy brown hair. No patient, awful face.

Just sunlight, a parking meter, and some woman in yoga pants dragging a kid by the hand past the newsstand.

I blink hard.

Nothing.

Jesus Christ.

“Hey—hey, it’s okay.”

My pulse keeps trying to outrun my body.

I imagined it.

I had to have imagined it.

The customer I collided with is already crouching, reaching for broken ceramic before I can stop him. Mid-thirties maybe, office-casual, kind face, wedding ring. Totally normal. Aggressively harmless. He glances up at me and frowns. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” The word comes out thin. “Sorry. I just—thought I saw someone.”

He glances up at the window, then back at me, polite enough not to ask questions. “You should probably get that looked at.”

I barely hear him through the static. “What?”

“You’re cut.”

I look down.

There’s blood running into my sock.

A clean, ugly slice just above my boot.

It’s bleeding freely, but the edges hold together when I stop moving. Even though I’m staring at it, I still don’t feel anything. My whole body is running on adrenaline and ghost sightings.

“Let me get you a towel,” the man says.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re really not.”

Danny appears from the kitchen. “The hell happened out here?”

“I dropped the tray. I’m fine. It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. Blood is running into my boot, and the shaking has started—hands, arms, then shoulders as my body processes the last ninety seconds all at once.

“Go,” Danny says. “Get cleaned up out back. I’ve got this.”

I make it to the back room before anyone sees me cry. The door closes behind me and I slide down the wall and sit on the floor between a mop bucket and a case of napkins and I pull out my phone and call Holden.