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No joke, it felt a little unsettling having nothing last-minute hit me in the face like a bug splatter on a windshield and slink me into another wild fantastical scenario of epic proportions. I spent the rest of the day indoors as the snow continued to pour.

Ash, as always, stepped eagerly forward to bow in welcome, a damp grimy cloth draped over one arm, brandishing in the other a feather duster netted in webs and dust bunnies. Her pursuit of immaculateness rendering herself to be not so immaculate herself.

The house was already practically spotless when I left it, so I don’t know where or how she even managed to find more spots to polish. This, alongside stocking up the pantry, repleting the fridge, and to my absolute surprise pulling up with my bike, clearing the entire driveway of snow, had me restraining the immediate impulse to fall on my knees and start kissing her feet while also simultaneously begging her to take a rest.

Then she even apologized for her less-than-proper appearance, which was the punch to the guts that made me just wanna hold on tight to her right there and then and never let go till my bones were nothing but powder and ash— for Ash was too good for this world. There was just simply no two ways about it.

Disagreeing means heresy. And also death. Absolutely death.

Ash took my jacket off for me, eyed queerly at the light flutter of dark black I still had hanging over my shoulders, before parting briskly with an endearing smile to finally empty out a brimming basket of clothes she had been meaning to toss into the washer all day.

Drifting my gaze ever so slightly left graced me with a wholesome, blissful view of Adalia curled fast asleep on her favorite couch, having returned from her outing and resolutely unstirring, even as a restless Mr. Black swiped at a loose strand of her hair dangling over the edge of the soft linen.

As much as I tried to suppress it, the seeds that Amelia had oh so generously planted in my head had begun to sprout, blossoming into urges, questions that had me pausing every second step I took as I walked by to stop and consider.

.....

Managed to keep my mouth shut for the time being though, even when she awoke sometime later in the evening in the middle of dinner, I didn’t speak a word of meeting with her sister earlier at noon, instead serving her share of stewed potatoes and sliced sausages.

And when night fell, and after Adalia had suckered her daily dose, I almost nearly inquired her about it then. But something, something I wasn’t sure what stopped me in my tracks yet again.

It’s not as if I was afraid of what I’d hear, it’s just… if Adalia wanted me to know something, she’d just tell me about it, wouldn’t she? I look at her face, peer into the amicability of her silver-hued eyes, and I just can’t imagine them manifesting a disdain greater than that I’d typically see from her sister.

But according to Amelia, she had indeed been worse, far worse… and what was this whole thing about somebody else falling for her before me? And even more mystifyingly, what happened to him?

Alas, Adalia lifted her lips away from my neck, a faint sigh of satisfaction prickling my bare skin, and slowly began shambling herself out my bedroom door, leaving me wallowing in the dark, and also in mild surprise.

“You’re not going to sleep with me?” I asked. “You’ve been wanting to…”

She stopped just right beneath the doorway, her slender outline black and shadowy from the dim light of the hall.

“I’m going… somewhere… tonight…” She explained.

I waited for her to further elaborate, the seconds of silence after told me I shouldn’t wait any longer.

“Somewhere…” I said, hoping I sounded as casual as I did in my head. “At this late in the night?”

“Yes…” She said, and said no more.

Seems cryptic answers wasn’t just a trait exclusive only to her sister.

“Are you meeting with your sister again?” I asked.

“No…”

“Okay, then where are you going?”

“Some… where…”

And that was when I knew I was pressing down on a lost cause. Just another buzzing question to keep me up at night.

“Alright,” I said, lifting my feet up to bed. “Just stay safe, okay?”

I saw her head give the slightest nudge of acknowledgment, and I turned my gaze to the blank ceiling expecting her to just disappear where she stood as she usually does.

Yet, in the corner of my eyes, I think I could still see the faintest silhouette.

“One more… day…” Adalia whispered, her usual sluggish tone coursing with some fervor. ” “one… more…”

“A day just all for you, yeah,” I said with a smile.

“Not… just me…” She glanced back, her face partly basked in light, and with it, alight, always there, always present, shone the fondness in her eyes. “For you… too…”

Harsher, crueler… I just couldn’t see that side of her.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “For me too, I suppose.”

That night, I drifted peacefully to sleep listening to Amanda’s hysteric screams blasting in my earphones from jumpscare after jumpscare and regretting ever thinking of dabbling into horror.

I was up bright and early the next morning, Harry’s mysterious gift securely in my coat pocket as I clocked into the work, breaking my personal best with like fifteen more minutes to spare. Even Nick leaned out of his office, creaking and squeaking a poor swivel chair that looked miniature for a man his size, to give me a bit of praise in his usual Nick-ly fashion.

“Finally decided to take your job seriously, did you? About time.”

“Stop it, I’m blushing,” I said, stuffing my jacket in the locker, but still keeping Mom’s cloak over me, which at this point was too much a commodity against the cold to just stuff in my closet and forget forever.

Instead, I wore it over my employee robes, considering it another accessory to enhance customer immersion if ever I was inevitably inquired about it. While Nick quietly manager-ed away, I began setting up shop, whirring up machineries and wiping down countertops before finding myself the nearest ridge on the wall to prop myself against until somebody came chiming in.

Ever so often, I found my eyes drifting to the clock hanging on the wall, the minute hand slowly sinking down more and more, until I just couldn’t bear with it anymore.

“Hey Nick,” I yelled into the blackness of the back office. “Nick, you listening?”

From the depths of the abyss, a grunt echoed back. Nick was listening.

“Is Hayley coming in later today?”

The abyss expelled a sigh, clearly thinking itself above answering such banal inquiries.

“No, you’re solo shift today. She’s not coming. Won’t be for some time.”

Needless to say, I was caught off-guard by this piece of information.

“How come?” I asked.

“She has something to do. It’s as simple as that.”

“Something so important she can’t drop in for a while?”

“She’s the boss, she can do what she likes,” Nick said. “That includes entrusting the overseeing of her shop over to me.”

“But what’s so important that she can’t…?”

“I don’t care to know,” Nick impatiently cut me off. “And neither should you. You’re paid to work, so work. Stop asking questions.”

Just my luck, wasn’t it? The day after promising Harry I’d play diligent courier to pass her daughter his gift is the same day she decides to not be a cafe owner for a while.

Oh, well, I got her phone number, she’s Amanda’s close bud. Worse comes to worse, I have plenty of alternative ways to go about this task still.

Just right then, to the soft chime of a bell, the entrance swung open, letting in a windy, chilly draft, and blowing into our front doorstep the first customer of the day.

Always the first and frequent, I’m proud to say.

“Your boss needs to sort out when exactly you’re going to be closed,” Irene glared, speaking to me through the thickness of her wooly scarf. “It was a bit of an inconvenience trying to open a locked door yesterday, speaking as a loyal customer.”

“Terribly sorry,” I said, leaning over the counter with the practiced smile of customer hospitality. “But for your information, we do have a website, y’know?”

“You don’t update there,” Irene scoffed, plopping herself in her usual seat, unraveling her scarf and laying out a thick folder of paperwork in front of her. “Hence, me trying to open a locked door.”

No? Then just what the hell does Nick do on the computer the whole day then? What?

As I was busy pondering the reason for my manager’s existence, I heard the click of Irene’s pen fastened in her grip… but then the usual scribbling, writing, that followed after… I didn’t hear it.

“That cloak,” Her unblinking eyes slowly descended from my shoulders to my legs, lips parting more and more. “I’m going to guess your mother wanted to give you something especially special?”

“Wow,” I gaped at her. “You must be a detective or something.”

Irene stayed her gaze at my attire for a moment longer, before fervently shaking her head, incredulous, and diving headfirst into her work.

I’m not even going to ask or wonder how that’s possible, because typically it just isn’t,” She said so calmly that just circled back to sounding exasperated. “Magic like that. Abilities like that. It’s beyond the extent of my knowledge. And you… you’re wearing it like it’s nothing.”

Funny. I think I heard something along those lines from someone else before.

“Just get me my usual,” Irene requested. “And if you could, carefully please, don’t blow up the building by accidentally scalding yourself.”

“I’m careful.”

“I know you are, talent like yours. But if you’re gonna keep that cloak on, just exercise caution, alright?”

The kind of feats my mother accomplished engulfed in this shade of darkest black, from Irene’s wary glances, I could imagine it… the fear it used to instill, the sheer awe it used to deliver.

Atop a saucer, I nudged Irene’s drink towards her. Freshly-brewed, and wafting with an aroma that she just couldn’t seem to resist, Irene almost greedily lifted the rims of the cup to her lips, and I could visibly see the serenity and peace gradually oozing into her in the slumping down of her shoulders. Her small smile of satisfaction afterward only attested to that.

And now that she was in a better, less cranky mood…

“Hey, Irene,” I said slowly, careful only to speak, seeing a lengthy pause between her scribbling. “Got a favor to ask, if you don’t mind that is…”

The tip of her pen stalled at the tail end of a sentence, tinging a full-stop to an even more to a bigger, bolder dot. I suppose that meant she was listening.

“See, I’ve been thinking,” I continued, finally giving a voice to the only other thought that had continued to pester me since yesterday. “I don’t suppose you could teach me how to better use my abilities, do you?”