Too close to the truth
By the time Emilia stepped out from behind the bakery, the small coastal village had surrendered completely to night. The faint indigo of dusk had drained away, leaving a darkness so complete it felt almost physical—like a velvet curtain drawn tightly across the world. Shadows wavered along the narrow cobblestone roadway, shifting and bending with the rise of the wind. Above her, the moon hung low, a pale, imperfect coin smudged by a restless swirl of mist rolling in from the water.
She wrapped her arms around her chest—not for warmth, though the breeze carried a bite—but because her heartbeat felt erratic, skipping and thudding as if trying to warn her of something coming. Something imminent. Throughout the day she had forced herself not to think about the folded
