Chapter Two – Routine Interrupted
326 Words
The apartment smelled faintly of tea and melting snow.
Buddy moved through the space like it demanded precision—every object in place, every motion deliberate. His shadowboxing echoed softly against the walls, fists cutting through invisible air. Left. Right. Slip. Reset.
Again.
Again.
The rhythm didn’t change.
It couldn’t.
When he stopped, the silence returned too quickly.
He stepped into the shower. Cold water struck his skin, sharp and immediate, dragging the air from his lungs. He stood there longer than necessary, letting it settle into his muscles, into his bones—until the cold felt earned.
Warmth was unreliable.
Cold never lied.
A towel hung loose around his waist as he opened the notebook on the counter.
Russian script filled the pages—tight, controlled, unreadable to anyone but him.
The pen moved.
Muscle tension, right shoulder.
Left knee stable.
Mind—
He paused.
The ink hovered.
Then—
Mind restless.
A faint mark pressed into the page beneath it.
Snow outside. Soft. Relentless. Nothing can disturb it, except…
The word hung there.
Unfinished.
He stared at it longer than he meant to.
Then closed the notebook.
The window drew his attention without asking.
Across the street, through the thin frost clinging to the glass—
her.
Walking.
Same scarf. Same pace.
Not wandering.
Not lost.
She stopped.
Looked up.
Directly at the building.
At him.
For a fraction of a second, their eyes met.
Buddy turned away.
Too quickly.
The movement felt wrong the moment it happened.
He stood still.
Listening.
To what—he didn’t know.
Routine pulled him back before the thought could settle. Breakfast was minimal: bread, cheese, water. Measured. Exact.
Unnecessary, but required.
He ate without tasting.
Didn’t look back at the window.
Didn’t check if she was still there.
Didn’t want to know.
But her gaze stayed.
Not in front of him—
somewhere behind his thoughts.
Waiting.
And for the first time, the routine didn’t quiet it.
- Writer
