Page 2 of Only Human in Strangeville

For his part, he simply carried my bag up a flight of creaky wooden steps and rolled it down the hallway to the last door on the right. He must know exactly where to walk because the ancient boards groaned under my steps, but the building didn’t react to him at all.

Mr. Cofield put my key in the door and opened it for me. “The things you ordered arrived yesterday. I put the boxes in here, but otherwise the place has been empty since the last tenant left and we updated the room. I believe you will like it, especially the balcony. The view from this side of the building is the best. Here’s your key and paperwork.” He set them on a table, bowed slightly, and headed for the door.

“Please let me know if you need anything at all.” He smiled, then left, the lingering scent of cinnamon hanging in the air.

I stared at the shut door for a solid minute before I shook my head, trying to jerk myself out of whatever weird brain space my landlord had put me in. Yeah, he was hot, but he wasn’t that hot. Was he?

Someone had piled a bunch of boxes neatly along one wall. A few nights ago, in a cheap hotel near the bus station, I’d realized I was moving into an apartment and didn’t even have a coffeemaker. I’d ordered a bunch of stuff and sent it to myself, then panicked the next morning when the tracking said most of it would beat me.

Fortunately, Mr. Cofield had assured me it was no issue to put the things in my room. The apartment had come with basic furnishings, a couch, desk, dresser, and a bed, but the rest I’d had to buy.

Rebuilding a life was a lot of work. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here. Especially if my landlord had, like, an available brother or something.

I laughed at the thought and set about exploring my new home.

Some unpacking and a solid amount of sleep on a perfect bed had me in a much better state of mind several hours later. I almost hoped I would run into my landlord again so I could act like a normal person instead of a brainless twit. My paperwork was read and signed. I pocketed my key, and grabbed my notebook with a list of things I needed to buy and questions to ask if I found someone to talk to, not to mention in case I needed to write down ideas.

Unfortunately, the office door was locked when I tried it, so I slid the paperwork through the mail slot and headed outside. Clouds had rolled in while I’d slept, and I shivered at the slight chill to the spring air. Despite the length of my shopping list, my desire for real coffee and the familiarity of a coffee shop were stronger than my need to buy groceries.

The short walk between my apartment and the coffee shop was possibly a dangerous combination, but so be it. It was a risk I was willing to take.

The earthy, rich scent of coffee mingled with a buttery smell that had me nearly drooling by the time I made it to the counter. Whoever ran this place clearly appreciated baked goods. Really high-quality ones. I wanted to plaster my face against the glass like a kid in a candy shop.

“What can I get for you?”

I hadn’t even noticed the woman behind the counter, though she was nearly as remarkable as the baked goods. Her skin was flawless porcelain, and her eyes held an ageless depth I couldn’t begin to describe properly. She wore hot pink lipstick and matching eye shadow. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how old she was.

“Hi. I’m Hannah. I just moved to town. I think I’ll be here a lot.” I couldn’t help my cheery grin.

“Jaz,” she said and pointed at herself. “I’m here a lot, too.” Her expression had turned interested, but she remained a little reserved.

Fair enough.

I ordered a latte and a pastry, barely refraining from ordering one of everything out of the case.

“Take a seat. I’ll bring them out in a minute.”

While she worked on my order, I found a seat near the front window, so I could see out. There was some sort of weird coating on the glass that blocked much of the light. Some sort of UV thing? Seemed odd, but they had plenty of lamps inside to make up for it and it didn’t block the view.

One section of the place had comfortable-looking armchairs, couch and some low tables. Bookshelves lined the wall. I would explore those later. Reading was one of my favorite activities.

This area had more of a table and chair set up.

Jaz brought my drink and pastry.

“Is it always this quiet during the day?”

“Yes. Our main clientele are a bit more… nocturnal.”

“Oh, you’re open late?”

“Twenty-four, seven.”

“Wow. That’s amazing, especially in such a small town.”

Jaz smiled at me. “Beechworth is a bit different from your standard small-town USA.”

I almost blurted out that was part of why I’d chosen to move here, the rumors. But I didn’t want to be ‘that person.’ So I clamped my lips shut on the admission.

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