The Smile She Wears in Daylight
354 Words
By morning, she was someone else.
The woman from last night — the one who knelt in the dark, whispering to the dead — was gone.
Now, she was simply Elara Voss, the quiet, polite woman who lived two streets from the local café and always tipped well. She wore soft colours, kept her hair neatly tied back, and smiled just enough for people to remember her as “pleasant.”
The truth was blending in the required performance. She’d learned to watch how normal people behaved — when to laugh, when to look shocked, when to nod along to gossip about politicians or weather.
It was exhausting but necessary.
This morning, she walked into Sable Grounds, the café where she worked part-time. The smell of coffee and cinnamon was sharp in the air. Regular customers greeted her, some with familiarity, some barely glancing up.
“Morning, Elara,” the barista at the counter chirped.
She smiled, soft and genuine-looking. “Morning.”
On the surface, she was warm. Inside, her mind was cataloging every detail — the couple arguing in the far corner, the man with nervous eyes tapping his phone too often, the kid by the window staring at her a second too long.
She was always hunting. Even when she wasn’t.
She served coffee, wiped tables, took orders — and watched. Always watched. Because the thing about evil was that it rarely hid in dark alleys. It was here. In daylight. In plain sight.
Around noon, a new customer came in — tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a dark coat despite the mild weather. He ordered a black coffee and sat near the back, choosing a seat where he could see the whole room.
Her instincts prickled.
Not fear. Not yet.
But… awareness.
When she went to clear a nearby table, his eyes lifted, catching hers for a fraction of a second longer than polite. His gaze wasn’t flirtatious. It was… assessing.
She recognized that look.
She’d seen it in mirrors.
The man was watching her.
For the first time in a long time, she wondered if someone was hunting her too.
- Writer
