Chapter 3: Skye

A few days had passed since I last saw the towering stranger. The Honeysuckle Café, usually bustling with warmth and chatter, felt somewhat empty. An odd sensation gnawed at me – a sense of unease that I found hard to shake off.

I didn't even know the man's name. He was just another face in the crowd of patrons I served day in and day out. A face that was slightly more familiar, perhaps, and a presence that was decidedly more intense, but still just a customer.

And yet, here I was, acutely aware of his absence.

The day wore on as usual. Maggie bustled around, her cheer infectious despite the dampened mood I found myself in. Customers came and went, the bell above the door jingling with each entry and exit. Coffee was brewed, pastries were served, and yet that inexplicable void seemed to hang in the air.

I tried to brush it off. Maybe it was just the monotony of my life finally catching up to me. But as the day drew to a close and there was still no sign of the man, the feeling of disquiet intensified.

I found myself peeking out the window more than I should, watching the door with anticipation each time the bell jingled. Every time, a tiny part of me hoped it would be him, only to be met with disappointment.

It was ridiculous. I barely knew the man. Yet, I couldn’t ignore the sense of safety, however irrational, that seemed to accompany his presence. A presence that was now conspicuously missing.

As I closed up the café for the night, I couldn’t help but feel a chill of apprehension. The walk home seemed lonelier, the small town eerily quiet without his shadow somewhere in the background.

As I made it home, I pushed the feeling aside, telling myself it was just the solitude playing tricks on my mind. He was just a customer, after all, and customers come and go.

But as I drifted off to sleep that night, I couldn't shake off the lingering thought – Where was the stranger who, in his own strange way, had made me feel a little less alone? And why did his absence bother me so much?

"Hey sweetheart. Are you alright?" Maggie's voice pulled me from my thoughts, causing me to jump a little. The sound of the espresso machine seemed suddenly too loud in the quiet café, jarring against the silence of my contemplation.

"Sorry," I stammered, turning to face her. "My mind was elsewhere."

Maggie simply smiled at me, her eyes sparkling with an understanding that made my cheeks burn. It wasn't just the steam from the coffee machine warming my face. I felt exposed, as if she somehow knew what, or rather who, had been occupying my thoughts.

"You're allowed to take breaks, you know?" She winked playfully, the corners of her eyes crinkling with mirth. "Even daydreaming breaks."

Embarrassment washed over me, and I quickly turned away to busy myself with a stack of cups that didn't really need rearranging. "Just a little tired, Maggie. I guess I could use a daydreaming break, but not right now."

It was a weak excuse and I knew it. Even worse, I knew that Maggie knew it too. Her knowing smile lingered on me for a moment before she shrugged and went back to her tasks.

I could still feel the heat in my cheeks as I returned to my work, refocusing my attention on the coffee machine and the steady stream of customers. My mind, however, stubbornly refused to stop wandering back to the absent stranger.

Why should the habits of one customer impact me this much? And yet, the empty spot at his usual table nagged at me, a constant reminder of his absence. A mystery that was taking up far more of my attention than I was willing to admit.

With a silent promise to myself to stop these unwarranted thoughts, I threw myself into the remainder of the day's work, letting the familiar routines envelop me. But, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, that sense of unease, of something missing, lingered just beneath the surface.

As I moved through the café, wiping down tables and exchanging quick pleasantries with the customers, I noticed a family in the corner booth. The father was joking around, making exaggerated gestures that had the kids dissolving into fits of giggles. The mother watched them all with a fond smile, occasionally chiming in with her own teasing comments. Their laughter filled the café, bright and warm, a stark contrast to the inexplicable melancholy that had been following me around all day.

I couldn't help but stop and watch them for a moment. The way they interacted, so effortlessly and freely, tugged at something deep within me. A longing. A yearning for something I had never had, never known.

Growing up without a family, without any knowledge of where I came from, has always been a sore point for me. While other kids had parents to run to, siblings to play with, grandparents to spoil them, I only had the echoing silence of my loneliness. The empty spaces in my past were like missing puzzle pieces, leaving me with an incomplete picture of who I was.

And right now, watching this family's simple joy, I felt that emptiness more acutely than ever. I would give anything to know what it felt like to belong, to know my family, to know where I came from.

As if sensing my gaze, the mother looked up, meeting my eyes. I hastily looked away, embarrassed at being caught staring. I busied myself with my work, but that pang of longing remained, a silent ache that no amount of busyness could erase.

The day wore on, the café filled and emptied, and the laughter of that family echoed in my mind, a stark reminder of what I didn't have. Of what I yearned for.

As I closed the café that night, I found myself once again wondering about the absent stranger, his empty table a physical representation of my emotional state. But now, there was another question that haunted me - who was I, Skye Jackson, without a past, without a family? And could I ever fill the emptiness that absence had left within me?

I've never been much of a social butterfly, always more comfortable with my own company than in crowds. The idea of going out, being in the company of others, always felt overwhelming. But Heather, with her infectious laughter and boundless energy, was someone I found myself drawn to. She was genuine, caring, and she had a way of making even the most ordinary moments feel special.

Some nights, when the café was quiet and I found myself alone with my thoughts, I would contemplate on her invites. The mental images of laughter, music, and camaraderie tempted me, but the fear of the unknown, the fear of stepping out of my comfort zone, always held me back.

Despite my hesitations, Heather never gave up on me. She would keep inviting me, pushing me ever so gently towards the world beyond my small, comfortable bubble. For someone who had spent her life without a family, Heather's persistent efforts made me feel less alone. Her friendship was like a beacon, inviting me to experience the world beyond my self-imposed boundaries.

And some nights, I found myself wondering, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to let myself experience that world, to step out from behind the safety of my solitude. Maybe, just maybe, it was time for me to face my fears. But for tonight, I just needed the familiarity of my own company, the comfort of my quiet home, and the space to process the events of the day.

My apartment wasn't much to look at; it was small, a little run down, but it was mine. Maggie, in her endless kindness, had rented it out to me at an incredibly reasonable price. It had become my sanctuary, the one place where I felt truly safe.

After a long day at the café, the solitude of my apartment was a welcome comfort. I quickly showered, heating up some leftover pasta for dinner. As I ate, I allowed the events of the day to wash over me, the empty spot at the café and the laughter of the family still echoing in my mind.

Once I finished eating, I performed my nightly ritual of checking all the windows and doors, ensuring they were securely locked. The hands of the clock were inching towards 11 pm. The café was often bustling until late, and Maggie appreciated the extra hand, which I was more than happy to lend. It wasn't like I had anything else to occupy my time.

Despite having been in town for a while now, I hadn't really made any friends. Heather had been trying, God bless her, but I had been too scared to get close to anyone. The fear of my past, of what I was running from, kept me isolated, even when a part of me longed for connection.

Once I was sure every possible entrance was secured, I finally allowed myself to relax, crawling into bed. As sleep claimed me, my last thoughts were of a familiar empty table and a stranger who somehow had taken up residence in my thoughts.

From the day I first laid eyes on the stranger, he had somehow infiltrated my dreams. At first, they were innocent enough - simple recreations of our encounters at the café, where he would sit at his usual table while I went about my day. But over time, the dreams took a turn for the risqué.

I'd wake up flustered, heat blooming across my cheeks as I recalled the explicit nature of the dreams. It was embarrassing, to say the least. The fact that they were about a man I knew nothing about, other than his daily coffee order and the fact that he was inexplicably attractive, made it all the more perplexing.

But I'd be lying if I said I didn't look forward to those dreams. As inappropriate as they might have been, they provided an escape from my reality. In those dreams, I wasn't the scared girl running from her past; I was just a normal young woman, exploring her desires, living a life unburdened by fear.

These dreams were an anomaly, a confusing, titillating break from my otherwise monotonous life. The mystery man from the café had somehow become the leading man in my nocturnal fantasies, making my nights a lot more interesting, and a lot more complicated.

Exhausted from the day's events, I closed my eyes, welcoming sleep and the sweet dreams that accompanied it. Tonight, like many nights before, I found myself looking forward to the escape they offered, curious about the adventures my sleeping mind would embark upon.

As my consciousness slipped away, I surrendered myself to the dreamscape, ready to face whatever, or rather, whoever was waiting for me there.