10 | Monday
995 Words
Mira spent the entire morning pretending she wasn't distracted.
Unfortunately, she wasn't very good at it.
"You're stirring an empty cup."
Mira blinked.
Looked down.
Sure enough, she'd been stirring her coffee for at least thirty seconds.
The cup was empty.
Across the table, Ciara looked deeply concerned.
"Mira."
"What?"
"Are you okay?"
"Of course."
Ciara pointed at the cup.
"You've been trying to dissolve the bottom of that thing for five minutes."
Mira immediately set the spoon down.
"I was thinking."
"That's usually how it starts."
Mira narrowed her eyes.
"Why is everyone saying that lately?"
"Because you've been weird lately."
Traitor.
~
The office buzzed with the usual Monday energy.
Phones ringing.
Keyboards clicking.
People pretending they wanted to be there.
Mira stared at her computer screen.
Then immediately zoned out again.
A year.
Noah had said they'd known each other for a year.
Not weeks.
Not months.
A year.
Long enough to become friends.
Long enough to have favorite coffee orders.
Long enough to know where someone worked.
Long enough to notice when something was wrong.
That thought bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
Because Noah wasn't acting like a dream character.
He was acting like someone who already knew her.
At least, the version of her that belonged there.
~
"Earth to Mira."
She jumped.
Ciara nearly spilled her coffee.
"Good grief."
"Sorry."
Ciara leaned against the desk.
"You are definitely weird."
"That's very supportive."
"I'm your friend. It's literally my job."
"Pretty sure that's not in your contract."
"Emotionally, it is."
Mira laughed despite herself.
Ciara pointed dramatically.
"There!"
"What?"
"You smiled."
"I smile."
"Not today."
"Yes, I do."
"You've looked like you're trying to solve a murder since nine this morning."
Mira looked away.
Which, unfortunately, only made Ciara more suspicious.
~
By lunch, she'd completed exactly half the work she'd planned to finish.
The other half remained untouched.
Mocking her.
Mira poked at her salad.
Then froze.
For the briefest moment—
she saw a flash.
A recording studio.
A cluttered table.
A coffee cup covered in doodles.
Noah laughing.
Not a dream.
Not like the full moon dreams.
Just a sudden image.
Sharp.
Instant.
Gone.
Mira nearly dropped her fork.
Her heart raced.
The image had felt real.
The way memories felt real.
Like remembering something from last week.
Not something imagined.
A memory.
The distinction unsettled her.
A lot.
~
The rest of the afternoon passed painfully slowly.
By the time she finally got home, her brain felt exhausted.
The moment she stepped through the apartment door, she heard music.
Not Noah's music.
Darren's.
Which was considerably worse.
Mira followed the sound toward the kitchen.
And immediately stopped.
Darren stood in front of the stove singing dramatically into a spatula.
Off-key.
Very off-key.
"Tell me whyyyyy—"
"No."
Darren turned.
Completely unashamed.
"Welcome home."
"What are you doing?"
"Performing."
"Poorly."
He pointed the spatula at her.
"Hater."
Mira laughed.
The tension she'd been carrying all day loosened slightly.
Darren smiled.
Mission accomplished.
~
Dinner consisted of pasta.
Garlic bread.
And Darren attempting to convince her that garlic bread qualified as a vegetable.
"It comes from plants."
"That's not how vegetables work."
"It feels unfair that bread isn't a vegetable."
"You should write to the government."
"I might."
Mira shook her head.
Smiling despite herself.
Darren watched her for a moment.
Then his expression softened.
"There she is."
Mira blinked.
"What?"
"You've been somewhere else all day."
The words landed harder than she expected.
Because they were true.
~
Later, they moved to the couch.
Darren stretched out beside her.
One arm resting along the back cushions.
"So."
Mira sighed.
"So."
"How was moon-boy?"
She groaned.
"Darren."
"What?"
"Please stop calling him moon-boy."
"No."
"Darren."
"No."
Mira threw a cushion at him.
He caught it effortlessly.
Looking entirely too pleased with himself.
~
Eventually she told him everything.
The train station.
The notebook.
The questions.
The musician revelation.
The recording studio.
The melody.
The fact that Noah apparently knew her favorite drink.
Darren listened quietly.
Only interrupting twice.
Once to ask whether Noah had answered the employment question.
And once to confirm that he still thought Moon-Boy was a ridiculous nickname.
When she finally finished, Darren leaned back.
Thinking.
"Huh."
Mira stared.
"Huh?"
"Huh."
"That's your conclusion?"
"For now."
"Darren."
"What?"
"This is weird."
"I know."
"No, seriously."
"I know."
He reached over and squeezed her hand.
The simple gesture immediately grounded her.
Like it always did.
~
For a moment neither spoke.
The apartment was quiet.
Outside, traffic hummed faintly.
Darren traced circles against the back of her hand.
Absentmindedly.
Comfortably.
The way people do after years together.
Then he asked softly,
"Are you scared?"
The question surprised her.
Because it was exactly the right question.
Not:
Do you like him?
Not:
What's happening?
Not:
Are you okay?
Just—
Are you scared?
Mira swallowed.
"A little."
Darren nodded.
Like he'd expected that answer.
Then he pulled her closer.
No speeches.
No dramatic reassurance.
Just presence.
Steady.
Reliable.
Darren.
~
That night, after he'd fallen asleep, Mira lay awake staring at the ceiling.
Moonlight filtered through the curtains.
Beside her, Darren slept peacefully.
One arm draped across her waist.
She should have felt comforted.
She did feel comforted.
But beneath that comfort sat something new.
Curiosity.
Dangerous curiosity.
A year.
Noah had known her for a year.
A version of her.
Not this her.
Yet somehow the distinction felt less clear than it used to.
Mira closed her eyes.
Immediately she saw another flash.
A guitar.
A familiar laugh.
Gone as quickly as it came.
Her eyes opened again.
Wide awake now.
Because the dreams were one thing.
The dreams only happened during the full moon.
But this?
This had happened in the middle of a Monday.
Mira wondered if they were changing.
Or if she was.
The thought followed her into sleep.
And somehow that frightened her more than Noah ever had.
- Writer
