When the bus stopped in front of the bookstore, Elena remained seated for a few seconds, as if she needed to convince herself that she had really arrived. She put her phone in her bag and studied her reflection in the window before getting off. She felt as though she had spent the morning chasing an explanation that kept slipping away from her, and yet nothing around her had changed. The same cars moved along the street, the same shops opened their doors, and the same passersby hurried along the sidewalks. The city seemed completely indifferent to what had happened in her apartment.
She crossed the street and pushed open the bookstore door.
The little bell tinkled above her head.
“You’re late.”
Elena looked up and saw Camille behind the counter. Her friend had her arms crossed and wore that falsely stern expression she put on whenever Elena arrived a few minutes after the agreed-upon time.
“How late?”
“Three minutes.”
“Then we’re good.”
Camille stared at her for a long moment.
“No, we’re not.”
Elena set her bag beneath the counter.
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Good morning. Now explain why you look like someone who just spent the night in a cemetery.”
Elena gave a faint smile.
“I didn’t sleep.”
“I noticed.”
Camille grabbed two coffees from behind her and held one out to Elena.
“Here. I thought you might need it.”
“Thanks.”
Elena took the cup in both hands. The warmth felt good.
Camille kept her eyes on her.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“You know exactly what.”
Elena sighed.
She knew she couldn’t avoid the questions forever. Camille was probably the only person she could tell part of the truth to, but she didn’t know how to begin. She couldn’t exactly tell her that a creature had entered her apartment, that she had hurled it against a wall with red light that came out of her hands, and that a man she had met in her dreams seemed to know who she was.
Even spoken aloud, the story sounded absurd.
“I had the dream again,” she finally replied.
Camille’s smile faded slightly.
“The forest?”
Elena nodded.
“But this time, it was different.”
“What do you mean?”
“There was someone there.”
Camille waited.
“A man.”
“Did you know him?”
“No.”
Elena hesitated.
“Well... I don’t think so.”
She lowered her eyes to her coffee.
“He knew my name.”
Camille frowned.
“In your dream?”
“Yes.”
Silence settled between them.
Then Camille gently placed her hand on the counter.
“Elena, you really should talk to someone.”
Elena let out a small, humorless laugh.
“I know.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She didn’t want Camille to worry any more than she already was. So she took a sip of coffee and changed the subject.
The morning began like any other.
Customers came in one after another, some looking for a specific book, others simply drawn in by the window display. Elena worked the register, shelved books, and answered the usual questions. There was something reassuring about the routine. It allowed her not to think about the previous night, the message she had received on the bus, or the figure she thought she had seen reflected in the window.
For nearly an hour, she almost managed to forget.
Then the door opened.
A man walked in.
Elena looked up automatically.
He appeared to be in his forties and wore a dark gray coat. His face was ordinary, almost unremarkable, but something in his manner immediately caught Elena’s attention. He wasn’t looking at the books. He wasn’t looking at the displays.
He was looking at her.
He approached the counter.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning. Can I help you?”
The man didn’t answer right away. His eyes dropped to Elena’s neck. Today, she was wearing a simple silver pendant she had bought a few months earlier. She had made sure to leave her mother’s pendant in her drawer.
The man seemed disappointed.
“Are you Elena Varenne?”
She stiffened.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry. I must have mistaken you for someone else.”
He turned away.
Elena watched him walk off.
“Wait.”
The man stopped.
“How do you know my name?”
He slowly turned around.
A strange smile appeared on his face.
“I mistook you for someone else.”
“Someone else named Elena Varenne?”
He didn’t answer. Camille, who was a few feet away, had heard the conversation. She came over.
“Are you looking for something?”
The man looked at Camille, then back at Elena.
“No. Nothing.”
He headed for the door.
The bell tinkled as he left.
Elena stood motionless.
“That was weird,” Camille murmured.
“Yeah.”
“Did you know him?”
“No.”
Camille watched the street through the window display.
“He looked at you like he knew you.”
Elena didn’t answer.
She knew exactly what she had seen in that man’s eyes.
It wasn’t curiosity, but recognition.
She returned behind the counter and tried to get back to work.
A few minutes later, she heard the bell again.
She raised her head.
The man had returned.
This time, he was standing near the door.
Elena felt a wave of cold run down her back.
“Did you forget something?”
He didn’t answer.
His gaze settled on Elena’s neck.
Then on her face.
“You should leave this place.”
Elena frowned.
“Excuse me?”
The man took a few steps toward her.
“You don’t know what’s looking for you.”
Camille moved slightly in front of Elena.
“Sir, if you have something to say to her, say it clearly.”
The man looked at Camille with a strange expression.
“You shouldn’t be near her.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer.
His gaze returned to Elena.
“He’s already found you.”
Elena felt her heart begin to race.
“Who?”
The man stepped back.
“You’ll find out soon.”
Then he left. Elena ran to the door, flung it open, and looked out into the street. The man was gone. Only a few seconds had passed since he left, yet when she looked to the right and left, there was nothing—just like the old woman, just like the man who had followed her the day before, as if everyone who came to speak to her was capable of disappearing the moment she stopped watching them.
Camille placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Elena...”
She turned around.
“I don’t understand any of this.”
Her voice was more fragile than she would have liked.
“Neither do I.”
Camille looked at her anxiously.
“What did he mean by ‘he’s already found you’?”
Elena slowly shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
But deep down, part of the answer was already beginning to take shape.
She thought of the man in her dream.
His red eyes.
His voice.
The one who will come for you.
Elena instinctively raised a hand to her neck. Her mother’s pendant wasn’t there, yet she could have sworn she felt its weight against her skin.
A shiver ran down her spine.
Someone was looking for her.
And this time, she was certain of it.
She went back behind the counter, but she could no longer concentrate on her work. The stranger’s words echoed in her head, over and over.
He’s already found you.
For the first time, Elena wondered whether the message she had received that morning was talking about a stranger.
Maybe “he” already had a face.
Maybe she had even met him before.
And that thought made her feel colder than anything else.