Page 32 of Shattered Echoes

"Busy, doing what?" Mark raises an eyebrow, skepticism etched on his face. "You know, the last I heard, you were…" he trails off, his voice dropping a notch.

My stomach clenches. I’m sure the news of my… situation has not traveled through the town's intricate gossip network, or it would have been all they talked about for weeks. I do not know how Mark knows, but he always had a knack for knowing things he shouldn’t.

Since I’ve been banned from going online, I do not know how bad the social media fallout is. Not knowing what’s happening makes it much more difficult to hear.

"Let's just say life took some unexpected turns," I manage, hoping to deflect the conversation. "But hey, good to see you. Catch you around."

Before Mark can protest further, I sidle towards the counter, squeezing in between a woman balancing a steaming latte and a businessman tapping on his phone.

The woman gives me a withering look as I cut in line, but I ignore her, focused on getting my order placed and escaping this awkward encounter.

"Can I take your order?" a young waitress chirps at me, a bright smile plastered on her face. It's Sarah, a girl from my grade who used to have a crush on me. Judging by the nervous flutter in her eyes, maybe some of that crush still lingers.

"Coffee, black," I mumble, avoiding eye contact.

"Anything to eat? We have fresh blueberry muffins today," she adds, her voice tinged with a hint of flirtation.

"Just the coffee," I repeat, forcing a smile.

The moment the waitress turns away, Mark materializes beside me, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "So, what happened, man? You just disappear for years, and then you're back like a ghost? Did you hit it big with that band of yours?"

I sigh. Here we go. "Not exactly," I mutter. "Things just didn't work out the way I planned."

"That's a shame," Mark says, his voice softening. "But hey, you're back now, right? Starting fresh? Maybe you can get that record deal you were always chasing."

"Maybe," I mumble, unsure if I even want to chase that dream anymore. It feels like a relic of a past life, a life filled with ambition and a naïve optimism.

The woman in front of me receives her latte and moves on, allowing me to step forward. Hoping to escape Mark’s interrogation, I place some cash on the counter.

"So, where are you staying?" Mark continues, oblivious to my discomfort. "Back at your folk’s mansion?"

I grit my teeth. “Yeah. Where else would I be staying?”

"Hey, Antonio! Great to see you again!"

I flinch as a booming voice cuts us off. A large man with a bushy white beard and a booming laugh stands next to Mark, clapping him on the back. Mark throws his arm around the man's shoulder, forgetting about me.

"Hey, George! What brings you down to Joe's this fine morning?" Mark asks, turning his attention to the newcomer.

I squeeze past them, hoping to get to my seat on the other side of the counter before I get entangled in a lengthy catch-up session. I’m halfway to the door when I feel a hand on my shoulder. Again.

I suppress a flash of irritation and glance at the hand on my shoulder. I wonder what Leo would say if he heard about me brawling in a cafe back home.

"Antonio, wait up!" Mark calls, his voice booming over the morning chatter. He and George maneuver past the line, their laughter echoing through the small cafe. I can feel the curious stares burning into my back.

Mark slides onto the stool next to me, George taking the one on the other side. "So, as I was saying," Mark continues, oblivious to my discomfort. "How long are you around for?"

I hesitate, swirling the black coffee in my cup. "Not sure," I mutter. The simple truth feels heavy on my tongue.

"Oh, yeah?" Mark asks, his eyebrows raised. "Sounds swell."

"I guess," I say, hoping for the conversation to end.

"So, what brings you back to Shadow’s Bend, Antonio?" George chimes in, his voice gentle for such a large man. I don’t even have any recollection of the man, but small-town people are always too nosy for their own good.

"It’s personal," I mumble, hoping they'll drop the subject. Silence stretches between us for a moment, broken only by the clinking of spoons against mugs and the hiss of the espresso machine.

George continues watching me, so I add, "Just... needed a change of scenery."

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