Zora hung up the phone and dropped it into the pocket of her apron.
"You need to get back to work. You've been back here too long," her boss Andrew said, peeking around the corner.
She flashed an irritated smile. "Yup, sorry. My cat just threw up all over my room—it's terrible, actually. Everywhere. Want to see a picture of it?"
She grabbed her phone from her pocket and jammed it into his face before he could protest.
His face contorted in disgust. "No—nope, I don't need to see that." He half-gagged, already turning away. "Just... hurry up."
Zora smirked and quickly thumbed a text to Tariq. Knowing him, he was probably still in front of the mirror, obsessing over his appearance, and was going to be late. Again.
You look fine, get out of there or you're gonna be late, she typed. Then hit send and tucked the phone back into her pocket.
She stepped through the curtain into the main café.
"Orders ready for tables nine, ten, and twelve!" Tyson called from the kitchen window.
Zora jogged over to grab the plates. "Thanks, Tyson. Hey... did you make me some fries?" she asked, putting on her most exaggerated cute face.
He arched a brow. "Did you manage to tell Tariq how you feel yet?"
Her face went hot. Without missing a beat, she flipped him off and grabbed the plates.
"Oho! Someone's embarrassed!" he called after her.
"Stop it," she called back over her shoulder, flipping Tyson off again just out of view of the customers.
With her best customer service smile locked into place, she glided to her tables and set the plates down with just enough cheer to keep her tips intact.
The routine carried on—orders up, quick chats with the other waitresses, the occasional forced smile.
By the time she slid into the creaky stool behind the register and looked up at the wall clock, it was 9:15.
Ugh. Seven more hours until I can escape this hellhole.
She slumped forward, resting her head on one hand as she stared out through the café's smudged windows.
Across the street, kids played in the preschool playground, chasing each other with wild laughter. Cars rolled by in their usual morning blur, honking, braking, moving on.
Inside the café, it was quiet. A few lingering customers chatted lazily about bills, relationships, their annoying coworkers.
This was always the dullest stretch—right after the breakfast rush but way too early for lunch. Nothing to do but sit and pretend to look busy. If Andrew caught her slacking, he'd throw a tantrum about "work ethic" and probably give her another one of his fake write-ups.
God, if she could just punch that man's stupid, upturned nose… and maybe stomp on his glasses while she was at it.
Her thoughts drifted back to Tariq.
The wall clock now read 9:20.
He's probably in that stupid classroom, talking about... myths and stuff.
She smirked. Tariq always had a thing for ancient gods, warrior legends, and whatever obscure folklore he could get his hands on.
Zora? She liked the stars. Always had.
She could point out every constellation in the sky, trace each arc with her finger. And Tariq? He'd ruin the moment by giving a full-blown lecture about the tragic god or doomed hero it was named after.
Still... she sighed. They were complete opposites. She liked to think of him as her moon—and herself, his sun.
He was broody. Quiet. Thoughtful. And... why did thinking about him make her face warm like this?
She shook her head.
He was everything she wasn't—and that made him all the more attractive.
Not that he ever noticed.
"What are you doing?"
Zora jumped at Andrew's voice.
"I—I was…"
"Doing nothing," he snapped, already walking off. "Sweep the floors."
She clenched her fists and made mock choking gestures behind his back.
Grumbling, she grabbed the broom and headed to the entrance.
"Zora!" Tyson's voice rang out from the kitchen window.
She looked up. He held out a plate of fries. "Leftovers from a botched order. Take 'em."
Her mood lifted instantly. "Thank you, thank you, thank—"
But the last word never left her lips.
In fact… no sound did.
Tyson was still talking, but his mouth was moving without noise. Confused, he pointed to his ears.
Zora nodded, her heartbeat rising. She turned around, scanning the café.
Everyone had the same expression: confusion, unease. Not a single sound. Not a cough, not a clink of a fork on porcelain.
*Oh god. This is creepy.*
Then—
A voice.
Too loud for thought. Too calm for comfort.
The announcement began.
Then came the burning.
Then—
nothingness.