For a moment, Bobby couldn’t move.
The figure under the streetlight stepped forward—and the shadows peeled away to show her face.
A woman. Late thirties? Maybe older. Hair dark, pulled back too tight, a coat that looked too heavy for the night. But it was her eyes that froze him: cold, hollow. Empty as deep water.
And behind them… something flickered. Something not human.
Bobby’s breath caught. Heart hammering.
Echo Looper.
---
She stopped just a few steps away. Gaze locked on his, sharp. Deliberate.
“Bobby Stokes,” she said. Voice soft, but echoing strange—layered over itself, metallic, flat. “We’ve been looking for you.”
Bobby stepped back. Heart racing. “Who… who are you?”
The woman’s lips twitched. Almost a smile. Didn’t reach those eyes.
“Margaret,” she said, calm as stone.
