Someone spilled a few drops of their drink on her shoulder. The cold beverage trickled down her back and she shuddered. Not out of cold really. It was just her way of containing the sudden urge to throw the tray she was holding at the bastard who had not even turned to excuse himself.

He was crossing the street and she was coming towards him from the other side. He’s still not sure what had caught his attention first...

The monochrome tiles gleamed under the hurried steps of the waiters.

It smelled strange, like rotting apples turned sickeningly sweet, though there was nothing of the sort to speak of.

It was coming, on footsteps lighter than feathers, darker than death.