Rachel awoke in fright, her tank top drenched in sweat and clinging, her eyes searching in the morning light to confirm she was alone in her studio. Her comforter had been flung onto the floor, but there was no tell-tale sign of cadaver on her sheets or lingering smell of corpse within the small space.
She ran around the room, ensuring the front door and windows were locked, slamming the terrace doors closed, and latching them securely. The bathroom was empty, but she couldn’t bring herself to enter, instead closing the door and cleaning herself as best she could at the sink in the kitchenette. She pulled on her jeans, shirt, and jacket, and grabbed her wallet, desperate to get out into the sunshine and among the living.
The cafe Rue du Sacre du Printemps was not yet open when Rachel pas
