Page 6 of Noel
The motion sensors hiss them open, and a rush of icy air hits my face.The city lights blur behind the frost on the glass, and I tug my coat tighter as I step outside.
The parking lot is mostly empty, a thin sheet of frost glinting under the streetlights.
My breath clouds the air as I cross the asphalt, boots crunching softly.
Everything looks normal—until I notice the far corner, where one light is out.
Of course, it’s the one above my car.
“Perfect,” I mutter under my breath, tugging my coat tighter.My boots crunch on gravel as I cross the lot, every echo of my footsteps sounding too loud.
My tiny blue hatchback sits beneath that dark patch of asphalt, glittered with frost.
I pause, digging through my bag for my keys.
The world feels too quiet out here.The buzz of traffic is a faint hum in the distance, but the lot itself is still—eerily so.
It’s late.
The city beyond the chain-link fence buzzes with honking taxis and Christmas lights, but here—it’s just me and the shadows.
My heartbeat picks up as I near my little blue hatchback, sitting in shadow.
That’s when I see it.
A red envelope, half-crumpled and glistening with melted frost, the edges torn and damp, wedged beneath my windshield wiper.
I freeze.
It’s the third one this week.
The wind cuts through my coat, but the chill running down my spine has nothing to do with the weather.
My pulse starts to pound in my ears as I reach out, the paper cold and wet beneath my fingertips.
“Goddamn it,” I whisper, opening the envelope with trembling fingers.
The ink has run, but not enough to hide the single line scrawled across the front in jagged, black marker:
You shouldn’t have said yes.
My pulse is racing now because I know what it means.
The threats aren’t stopping.
They’re getting worse.
It wasn’t stress.
It wasn’t coincidence.
Someone’s watching me.
The air feels too thick.Too heavy.
I shove the letter into my bag and glance around, eyes darting to the edges of the lot.
The shadows seem deeper tonight, darker.
