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Olive

At three in the morning, the city was quiet.

There weren’t any cars rushing around, nor loiterers on the streets, and I could walk freely without being harassed.

Usually.

This morning there was someone on the streets with me.

In a weird way I could kind of sense him before I even saw him. Like how you can smell cigarette smoke before you spot the smoker. He was vapor in the air, cloyingly sweet and coating my mind with desire.

I’d never felt like this before.

Never needed like this.

I kept my head down, counting the blocks until I’d reach the bakery. I had to get in early to get the dough ready and begin work on the custards and tarts. It was nice; I could blare music in my headphones and have fun with my job. No customers for three hours, no worries. After that, all I had to do was keep making confectionaries as the early-morning workers came in for their breakfast.

I was usually done with work by ten in the morning and had a full day to enjoy myself.

That was on a normal day, though.

Tonight, something felt different.Wrong.

As I looked up ahead of me, there was finally a form to match that scent.

The streetlights cast long orange swaths across the streets, and a lone silhouette was caught in this gleam. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist. Standing outside the bakery, he seemed caught up in some serious deliberation.

I knew that I should be scared of him.

I knew he could be dangerous.

But all the same, before I could even glimpse his face, I was fighting down this starved need for him. I tried to settle my anxiety. This was Springfield. The last people you needed to worry about here were the ones that usually fit the profile for being a monster.

It was the humans that were trouble.

As I got closer, he turned and looked at me. A gasp caught in my throat.

In the soft, artificial glow, he looked unearthly. His hair was a coppery red, loose, and wavy as it swooped to the side of his angular face. His dark eyes caught my own, and I watched as his lips parted in recognition.

Did he know me?

If we’d met at some point, perhaps it would account for my body’s weird reaction, but at the same time it wouldn’t fully explain it. He turned to face me, the intricate designs of his dark-blue suit shimmering slightly.

“The bakery doesn’t open until six,” I called out apologetically. “There’s a 24-hour market not far from here if you need directions.” Even with how bizarre he was, my mind slipped back into customer speak. I couldn’t afford to lose this job because of some rich guy acting strange.

“I don’t—” He snapped his mouth shut, and then nodded. “Thank you.”

His accent was just thick enough for me to catch it on those four words; it sounded different to what I was used to.

My lips set in motion before I could stop them. “Let me fix something for you,” I offered. I’d get in trouble for this, without a doubt, but if he wasn’t from here and was lost, it was the least I could do.

He didn’t answer.

Usually, I would think that was rude, but the way he was watching me told me there were other things rushing through his mind besides niceties. “Are you from here?”

“No, just passing through for business,” he replied.

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