Page 76 of Palingenesis

A sharp pang tweaks in my chest, and for a second, I let myself feel the pain with my head tipped back and my eyes closed.

It makes me feel like he’s still around, even if it’s for the briefest moment in time. Somewhere, beginning his cycle all over again. Waiting for the right moment for me to find him in the next phase.

Glancing around my apartment, I can't help but sign the ache out loud.

“I wish you were here.”

I blink, clear my throat, then toss a jacket on and head out the door.

The walk to the café for the meet up with my new-old friend is short and brisk. It’s Fall, and I feel like I can finally enjoy one of my favorite seasons for the first time in a decade without the weight of judgement pressing down on me. There’s no ex to sneer at me or fake acquaintances to judge me.

Pumpkin spice flavored everything and apple picking is all in the very near future for me. Hell, I’ve even got a new cookie recipe tab still open in the background on my phone, just waiting to be tested out. It’s a cranberry, white chocolate kind that sounded incredible. Anything except chocolate chip.

There’s even a load of autumn and Halloween decorations on order. Just a few on their way to me since my apartment is so small and it’s just me, but I’m fucking excited.

Nervous … but excited.

Steeling myself with a deep breath, I head into the café and go straight to the counter. There’s a text on my phone from my pal telling me she’s running late and to order without her, which is totally fine. I could use the hit of caffeine to wake myself up a bit before we dive into working out the plot lines we’ve discussed.

I would have to say that I’m genuinely… happy. Whole. Cracking into a version of myself I never thought I’d live long enough to actually see, let alone feel. Don’t get me wrong, I miss the shit out of being creeped on and I’d rather not be eternally single, but I’m good.

Armed with a PSL and a chocolate croissant, I find myself a standing table with a view of the entrance to set up shop. The place is small, quaint, and makes a solid cup of joe that has gotten me through a lot of all nighters in the past few weeks. It’s got a vibe similar to Avery’s bakery that makes me miss him, and I shoot him a text telling him as much. That he should come visit soon. His reply is almost immediate but it goes unanswered when the entrance opens and the back of my neck tingles from the shift in the air.

It almost feels charged.

Thick.

Like smoke.

But it’s not.

My stomach clenches out of habit.

And the person that walks in is just some guy in a hoodie who’s face I can’t see from here.

The breath I let loose is heavier than I was expecting, my shoulders slumping too easily as he makes his way to the counter without bothering to remove his hood.

Shaking myself out of it, I wrench my gaze away from his back, returning it to the tablet I’m setting up for when my pal arrives.

At least, that’s what I pretend to do, all the while glancing up to see if I can catch sight of something familiar on the new patron.

There’s only a few others that were in here when I arrived, most since come and gone, but there’s just something about him that’s got me on edge and tingling.

That feeling in the back of my mind just refusing to let it go.

The familiar hum sitting backseat to the memories that still haunt me occasionally.

My phone vibrates against my arm, the flashing light reflecting off the table and tugging at my attention. Torn between ignoring it in favor of watching the stranger’s back as he moves to the pick up spot at the end of the counter, or pick it up and risk missing any chance I have of verifying that what I feel isn't what I think it is, I flick my gaze from one to the other. With my lips pressed into a flat line, the phone wins and I pick it up to find a message about a rain check from my author pal.

Train’s late. Not enough time.

The relief that washes over me has my thumbs stumbling over the keyboard, forcing me to type the same “no worries” text three times before it’s legible enough to send.

Trembling still when I drop the device to the table. It must make enough of a clatter amongst the general noise of the café because when I finally glance up, he’s turning around.

Oh, fuck, he’s coming closer.

Bright red eyes lock on mine, whisps of red hair peeking out from beneath his hood.