Tuesday light seems harmless, until it’s the last thing anyone ever sees of you.
A barista locks the back door after closing. The plastic bag at her wrist rustles, a lonely sound in the half-lit lot as rain mists the asphalt. A vending machine hums, a low, mechanical sigh. She sends a text on the stairs, pockets her phone… and the night takes her footsteps, one by one, until there is only sile...
