Shadows Gray - By Melyssa Williams Page 0,8

my emotions. I step nimbly, or what I had planned to be nimbly and casually, off the stage and nearly trip on a speaker cord. A hand helps me up from my stumble. As I rise, my eyes flicker once again to the back. I no longer see Luke but what I do see frightens me and steals my breath.

Sitting where Luke had been, in the oversized leather armchair, is a small woman. Her red calico dress is old fashioned, but it doesn’t look out of place on her timeless, otherworldly beauty. She is willowy but small in stature, with a frame like a little bird. Her blonde hair is almost yellow and hangs all the way to her tiny waist. It is parted on the side and half of it hides her face, but it is a face I know. A familiar face from my memories and from my dreams. This time I cannot talk myself back into reality. I cannot convince myself it is a coincidence, a fluke. A moment of déjà vu. She is too entirely like my mother and I know my mother is dead.

Our mother. Because I am certain that beautiful girl is Rose Gray.

Chapter Three

I land right back where I had stumbled a split second before. The woman helping me is so surprised that she almost lands on top of me since her hand is still on my arm. I feel as though I’ve been hit with something, a blow that knocked me off my feet, and I am stuck in a frustrating state of things being in slow motion and yet happening too fast for me to control. I can see the vibrant colors of the woman’s shoes that are directly in front of me; I can smell the vanilla from the latte on the breath of the man who leans down and helps me up; I can still hear the last strum of my guitar hanging in the air by my ears; and yet I am terrified that when I stand again Rose will be gone. I half leap, half claw my way to standing again and when I gaze desperately into the back of the crowd, my fears are realized and my heart feels as though it has stopped. She is gone. The leather chair is empty.

I know I am almost sobbing and making a spectacle of myself as I push my way through the crowd to the chair. I think I see Luke out of the corner of my eyes but I am uncertain and unconcerned. There are two different exits to the coffee shop and I don’t know which way to turn: right would be the main entrance and exit that leads to the street and left is the back entrance which has more parking spaces but you wouldn’t know that unless you had been here before. I choose right.

When I swing open the big door and step into the night air, the silence is a black hole that makes my air come out of my lungs in a whoosh. I can see far down the street in both directions and there is no one. There is no one here and I have chosen wrong. Pushing back through the crowd and going out the back is hopeless now. Rose is gone. I sink to the sidewalk.

I must have sat there for a few minutes, staring blankly into space as calm, silent tears cascade down my face. I notice when he sits down beside me but I don’t respond. I hug my knees to my chest. The only way I acknowledge him at all is to sniff every few seconds to prevent the snot from running down my face. It’s the only polite thing I can accomplish right now. In spite of what I think is a heroic attempt, Luke abruptly stands and leaves, back through the coffee shop door. I can’t help the pitiful broken laugh that escapes me, but in less than a minute, he is back. He sinks back down to the sidewalk with me and hands me a rough paper napkin.

“Best I can do,” he says. “Men’s stall is out of toilet paper.”

“Sorry,” I croak and accept the napkin. “I always forget to check in there when I’m stocking for the next day.” I blow my nose, at first daintily and politely, but then with more gusto. I take longer than I need to and wipe my eyes, putting off what I think could be a