Giselle

"No mom, I don't think I'll be able to make it." I kept my voice in check but that heaviness in my chest didn't lighten up.

"What do you mean you won't able to come over?" Mom screeched through the phone. "Your sister and her fiancé will be here and so should you?"

As I rolled my eyes, words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them, "He hasn't even proposed yet."

"He will!" Mom fumed and her tone changed, "Why do you always have ruin things for your sister?" she carped on dissatisfied, "You don't talk to her. Spout lies about her fiancé. Try to sabotage the wedding that she has always dreamed of. I know you've been always jealous of her but your behavior is just-too-much."

My jaw clenched shut and my hand balled into a tight fist.

Swallowing the dejection her words left behind, I took a deep breath and cleared lump that formed in my throat, "I've got customers waiting, mom, got to go," I lied.

I heard the usual displeased 'tsk' before she abruptly cut off the connection without a 'good bye'.

Dropping my phone in my pocket, I took a minute to press the heels of my palms onto my eyeballs to release the tension that built behind them. A heated growl of frustration echoed in my chest. It took a mountain of will power to not let her words scratch my skin deeper than they had. One phone call from mom was enough to knock all the weirdness that happened last night right out of my mind.

Mike was on his way to take out the trash when I stepped out of the storage room. He took one look at my face and knew what went on. Mike gave me a silent encouraging smile of which returned with gratitude before he carried on with his task.

Putting on my pink, floral rubber gloves, I washed the few remaining mugs and plates used by - what seemed to be- our last customers.

"I guess that's it for today," Mike voice penetrated my thoughts when he saw me standing by the window.

I was checking if anyone was heading our way, but strangely, there wasn't a single soul out there. Usually there would be a few people here and there, but tonight the streets were completely deserted. All I could see was Mr. Wilbur's sign of today's offer, 'Free Coffee for the first 50 customers'.

Does he even make money with all the freebies and giveaways? 'Cause I wasn't giving anything away and barely able to hold it together.

Sighing my defeat, I flipped the sign on the door to 'Close'. "Yeah, I think so."

Then proceeded to put on my jacket and sling my cross-body bag over my head while Mike switched the light off.

"Want me to walk you home?" Mike asked while I locked up the store.

I waved my hand dismissively, "Nah, I'm a big girl. Thanks though. However, you, my friend, need to hurry if you want to catch the bus, unless you want to wait two hours for the next one."

Pulling his phone out to check the time, Mike's forehead wrinkled when his brow rose. Yet he asked, "Are you sure?"

Nodding, I shooed him off, "A hundred percent. Go!"

Mike hesitated, but my scowl helped his decision-making. "Okay then, I'll see you tomorrow." He retreated a couple of steps, "And text me when you get home."

"Yes mother!" I rolled my eyes and then jabbed my chin, "B-bye."

He drew back a few more steps before he turned and jogged in the opposite direction waving good-bye.

The smile I had on my face evaporated the minute I turned around and met with the sight of Mr. Wilbur saying farewell yet to another costumer. I lowered my gaze not wanting to see that smug expression on his face, but the sudden uproar snapped my head in his direction.

An old man that I haven't noticed before was standing by the window of Wilbur's café. The casted lights revealed the rags he wore and the arch of his hunched back. There was a certain shakiness that accompanied his sluggardly steps. He used a beat up, squeaking shopping cart to aid his walk and keep his things.

"Hey!" Wilbur yelled. "Beat it! "

I couldn't hear what the old man said, but Wilbur's response gave a hint. "Do you have money to pay?"

My heart broke when I saw the man shake his head negative.

Wilbur flung his hand disdainfully with disgust. "Then get lost! I'm not running a charity here!"

The tremulous voice prickled my heart when I heard him beg.

"I have nothing for a rotten scum like you," Wilbur growled shaking his fists, "Go and die in some ditch you piece of shit."

Abandoning my watching post, I had to intervene. I was too tied up with what was happening that I crossed the street without checking for cars and my feet began to hit the pavement in a quicker pace.

"Please sir, I haven't had a single bite in two days. Please... even if it's scraps..." The man tried to beseech Wilbur's none existing sympathy.

My steps changed to sprints when I watched in terror Wilbur's face twisting foully as he approached the old man with malicious intentions.

"Mr. Wilbur!" I shouted trying to shift his attention to me, but his ire didn't redirect.

With a snarl, Wilbur bulldozed the shopping cart that stood between them and sent it over the curb with a loud crash. The old man flinched and tried to shrink away.

"Hey stop!" My scream pierced the dead night.

The man tried to shield his face with his gauntly arms from the coming rage as he muttered apologetically when Wilbur proceeded to roughly grab fistfuls of the man's hoodie and viciously shove him after his cart.

Leaping the last couple of steps, my arms instinctively shot out to catch the old man. Although he appeared emaciated, I failed to prevent his fall. Instead, I offered myself to take the full blow and mustered every ounce of strength in my body to alleviate his drop. The cart's handle jabbed me in the side right underneath my ribs before I came colliding hard with the pavement and underneath the old man.

I felt my lungs deflate rendering me breathless and waves of blinding pain blasted all over my body. Opening my eyes was a damn bad idea. All I saw was red and black dancing spots that played right into the vertiginous mind and queasy stomach. The few hard coughs that forced themselves out restarted my lungs and I sucked in air with a big gasp like I've have just resurfaced after drowning. However, the weight on top of me restricted my oxygen intake.

Alarmed by the thought that Wilbur might still be harboring malice, I rushed my gaze to focus only to see him standing at the entrance of his shop yelling.

"You better not let me see you near my café again!" Wilbur warned and then slammed the door with a rattle.

Good riddance! I sighed internally.

Noticing that I was still holding on to the old man, I slowly released him while maintaining a vigilant eye on his steadiness. His back was resting heavily against my chest and all I could see was the back of his head.

"Sir, are you hurt? Do you want me to call you an ambulance?" My voice came out scratchy and breathless. "Do you think you can stand?"

His remained silent, but nodded.

I wasn't sure which of my questions was answered with the nod, but he lifted his weight off of me and leaned forward. Ignoring the pain that accompanied my movements, I crouched in front of him. He neither lifted his head nor did he look at me.

Putting out my hands with my palms open, I gently slipped them underneath his and spoke in a soft voice, "Let me help you up"

He allowed me to help him to his feet. I watched him dust himself off and tighten his hoodie in the dim lights. To my relief, he didn't seem hurt anywhere.

"Are you alright?" He asked with his quivering voice.

"Oh yes, I'm fine." His concern was both sweet and heart breaking.

"I can't thank you enough for you help."

I quickly answered, "Any person would have done the same."

I wasn't hurt as much as I was furious with what Wilbur did. Finding strength in the burning rage toward Wilbur had me hauling the cart to its wheels and then hastily began picking up his belongings. It was heart wrenching to see how little he owned.

"Um... I'm so sorry for the way Mr. Wilbur acted," I blabbed feeling uneasy, "he can be a real piece of work sometimes." I unloaded the few pieces of old cloths, blankets and some empty cans and bottles back in their cart.

Giving that jerk a piece of my mind would have to wait for another time. Right now I have an elderly man who was humiliated and left hungry.

He trudged to his cart but I stepped in his way preventing his advance. I couldn't let him leave with an empty stomach. I was about to say and do all the things that Mike either told me not to or be careful of. Good thing he has already left.

"Why don't you come with me?" I smiled and pointed behind me, "My coffee house is right over there."

I kept trying to see his face, but the streets weren't only oddly empty tonight, they were strangely dusky as well. The light poles seemed –if possible- dimmer than usual and there was no moon or a single star shining in the night's skies.

He shook his head, "You don't have to do that. I'm gratef...."

The way his quivering voice broke tore my heart.

"Oh please? I can't have you leaving like this." I interrupted, and then nudged his cart a little in the direction of my store, "I know it doesn't look much, but I make great coffee and it's getting colder out here."

He didn't move for a minute, but then he nodded with a hand gesture to lead the way.

"Awesome!" I chirped. "This way please."

Halfway to the store I started to question my choices and a twinge of fear made its way to my brain.

Too late! I told myself.

All those murder stories that Mike has been reading about and sharing with me- despite my vigorous protests- gushed in my head in series of clips. If there ever was something to happen, tonight's perplexing ambiance would be the perfect opportunity and I would make the ideal victim.

Mike would be so proud. Not!

And if the old man turned to be a nice guy and didn't kill me, Mike probably will. Either ways, I'm dead meat.

Opening the door to the coffee house again, I pushed the cart through the door and parked it aside.

"Welcome to Oly's coffee house. Please, have a seat." I invited my guest in when I noticed that he was still standing at the threshold and didn't step inside.

I quickly slipped free off my jacket and bag before I went to turn on the lights by the storage room. Flipping the switched, I waited for the lights to flicker.

"That's weird?" I murmured in confusion.

All the lights illuminated except the ones on top of the tables. Trying the switch again, it was the same thing. The only light that poured over the seating area was from the ones atop the cashier and counters. Glancing at my only customer, I saw that he chose the corner table by the window and was looking out. He was half poorly lightened and half a complete silhouette, especially in that corner.

"I'm terribly sorry about the lights. I think we blew a fuse or something. Sadly I never thought of having candles here." I said aloud calling his attention, "You can change tables if it's too dark over there."

"It's quite fine over here, thank you." He replied politely. The quiver I heard in his voice earlier was no longer there.

"Any coffee preferences?" I asked, "Whatever you like."

"Anything is fine." He answered.

He hasn't lifted his head or looked at me once. He has kept his head down the entire time and I haven't the slightest idea how he looked like. All I knew about his features was that he had a thick grey beard.

Great! The sole witness to my possible murder is going to be Wilbur.

There was still a bit concern in me that I tried to put out with dark humor while stealing glances to the door and the man in the corner. To be fair, and to my peace of mind, he sat at the farthest end and away from the door.

I began to grind one of our finest coffee beans that instantly filling the air with their roasted richness and having me relaxing a little. My hands worked the machines expertly with known and trained familiarity.

While my trusted coffee machine worked its magic, I grabbed a couple of plates and some takeaway boxes to fill them with a variation of what was left from this morning's delivery. I left the sandwiches to warm up in the microwave, while I picked cookies and muffins. I loaded the boxes in a bag and dropped a few bottles of water along with the last twenty-something I had in my wallet.

The adrenaline that had me all hyper and active was wearing off fast now that I was in a calming place and all sorts of pain came threading through my body. Between running the coffee house, my mom and Wilbur, I was completely worn out. Instead of concentrating on what hurt and what not, I focused on what I was doing.

I'll have time later to figure if I had a concussion or not.

Secretly and quietly, I placed the bag in his cart all while keeping an eye on him. It felt degrading to hand it right to him and seemed better if he found it later. I wasn't waiting for his appreciation neither did it settle well with me to hear him thanking me for something as essential as food. Good thing he had his back to me the whole time and was staring at the darkness outside.

Placing the plates and a large mug of coffee in front of him, I beamed radiantly, "Here you go."

"But I can't pay you for any of this," he conceded and kept his hands on the table not touching anything. "I don't have money."

"Don't you worry, it's on the house." I was already shaking my head even before he finished his sentence. Then I added with sincerity, "And whenever you feel hungry, or have a craving for a cup of coffee or even wanting to stop by just because, you are always welcomed here, okay?"

He nodded in gratitude and only then did he hold the mug to his lips and reached for the sandwiches.

Sometime later after I cleaned up the mess my trembling hands have made, I returned with a new coffee mug. My movements were becoming heavier and more sluggish and no matter how much I was trying to stay nimble it didn't work. The only thing that kept me moving was the sense of responsibility I felt toward the man in the corner.

I need to sit down. I thought to myself when my vision fazed whenever I moved. Exhaustion was draining me by the minute.

Replacing his empty mug with a fresh one, I asked with a smile, "Would you like me to get you anything?"

I saw that he almost cleared his plates. The poor guy must've been really starving.

"You did enough for me, thank you." He said and reached for a napkin.

He sounded beholden, but still kept his head down.

"Let me know if you changed your mind." I used my most assuring voice to let him know that my offer remained extended.

As I turned around, my feet clumsily tripped over each other. A strong grip got hold of my arm to steady me and a stab of shocking pain had me gasping from the agony that spurted from elbow.

He released my arm faster than dropping a hot plate. "What's this?"

My eyes lowered and strained as I twisted my arm to see the source of my ache. Only now did I notice the stain that colored the hem of my light blue t-shirt. What I thought was a scrape seemed to be more.

"You're bleeding." I heard him say.

His voice travelled differently. The harsh gruff edge of his tone made me flinch and my gaze snapped in full alarm to the dark shadow of him. It wasn't only how he sounded, but the blood freezing rage charged in his words. My heart started pounding hard under the hostile fury I felt emitting from him. I still couldn't see his features but I damn sure could feel his spearing gaze on my skin.

His head snapped in a different direction and I followed where I thought he was looking at. I gasped when I saw the smudges of red on palm where he grabbed me, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," my mouth began to speak haltingly. "Let me..."

His head jerked up in my direction with eyes flashing gold. Startled and panicked, I sprung a step back dropping the mug I held with a loud shatter. Whatever words I was about to say fled my mind.

I watched in utter fear as he slowly drew closer. My feet refused to move pinning me to the spot and my knees wouldn't stop knocking onto each other. The thuds of my heart could be heard in my ears and my only thought was: If I screamed, who would save me.

My mouth ran dry as my breathing quickened. The intensity of his glare had me dropping my head to his stained hand right before I squeezed my eyes shut. I could sense his closeness and all his indignation with every fiber of my being.

"This changes everything," he hissed.

Right after his words, a strong gust of wind blew like a tornado out of nowhere and whirled around me.

What the hell is happening?

My attempts to keep my eyes open failed miserably. In the tenebrous mess that surrounded me, I caught the glimpse of a faceless glowering pair of orbs darting in my direction. My heart leapt to my throat as I glued my eyes shut and screamed. The winds twisted fiercely whipping my hair over my face and swaying me off my feet. Breathing was getting harder, it felt like the air was being sucked out of my lungs. I clapped my palms tightly over my ears, fruitlessly blocking the deafening howls of the wind and crouched into a ball. All of my shrieks were lost in this frenzy.

Then just as everything started, it all came to an abrupt halt of utter silence and the air became still once again. I remained motionless. Nothing but the sound of my heavy breathing and the thuds of my heart filled my ears. How long did it take me to move? I didn't know. All I knew was that it took me a while to muster up the courage to open my eyes.

Struck with surprise- I gasped. I spun fast in my crouching position to where the strange man was and lost my balance to flop to the floor. I was alone. My eyes darted around, but he was nowhere to be found. Lifting my head, I saw the lights that weren't working earlier illuminated brilliantly, as if there was never anything wrong with them.

On shaky legs, I pulled myself to stand and my puzzlement grew deeper. There were no plates or a mug or even crumbs on the corner table he occupied. No shards on the floor from the broken mug I've dropped. Even the cart I pushed inside has disappeared.

A sudden ringing ripped a horrified scream out of me before I recognized my ringtone. Rushing to my bag, I snatched out my phone and hit answer.

"Didn't I tell you to text me when you reached home?" Mike's voice scolded, "Did you forget?"

My eyes were still swinging in every direction and my heart was still pounding in my throat. "Umm..." My voice came out tremulous and taut, "N-not exactly..."