Page 48 of Norah

I don’t doubt that Roman sawsomething. But in the month since we all met, we’ve made multitudes of choices, each one of them able to change the future. It reminds me of a story I read in high school, about a butterfly that changed the world. Any one of our choices could mean the future Roman saw for us isn’t necessarily the future we have now.

My phone buzzes with a text from work, shaking me out of my reflections. They rescheduled my meeting with the CEO, leaving me ten minutes to get dressed and out the door if I want to make it on time.

It’s times like these that I’d like to use that vampire speed. But we both agreed that using these powers in daylight, especially in the city, would be much too risky.

Still, it would be handy right now. I shove my feet into my shoes and pick up my suitcase as I head for the door, trying to ignore my phone. It’s buzzing with panicked messages from other employees about the hastily rescheduled meeting.

My hand is on the doorknob when I pause. Something feels slightly… off. I silence the phone and stop moving, listening for anything out of the ordinary. There’s nothing but the usual noises; the ice maker kicking on, the soft drone of the traffic outside, a murmur of ticking from a clock.

I move from room to room, checking for anything unusual. There’s nothing out of place, no additional noises. The apartment even smells normal; the only noticeable scents are shower gel and shampoo, with a hint of toothpaste.

It must be my imagination. A lingering sense of foreboding brought on by thinking about Roman’s ominous prediction. Pausing at the front door, I search for that odd sensation again, but find nothing. Just normalcy. I shake my head at my overactive imagination and head out the door, realizing that I’m going to be late for the meeting.

Too bad I can only teleport short distances, otherwise I’d zip myself to work in a flash. After testing, I’ve learned I can teleport the length of a football field, which isnotthe distance from here to my office building.

Late it is. With a sigh of dismay, I step out the door, hearing it shut with an audible click.

NORAH

After leaving my interview, I feel like I’m floating as I walk down the sidewalk of 6th Avenue.

Little bubbles of happiness have been fizzing and popping in my chest ever since I left. I still can’t believe how well it went. The people on the interview committee were welcoming and friendly; not at all what I was expecting.

I’d envisioned a panel of frowning faces, throwing a barrage of questions that I wouldn’t be able to answer. Instead, they wanted to hear my ideas, my strengths, my goals for the future. I’d dreaded the question of why I left the field for so long, but they quickly accepted my explanation of prior health issues. It’s true, butnotin the way they imagined. I left the interview with the reassurances that I’d hear soon, the accompanying smiles a strong clue to the outcome.I hope.

Even though I don’t have the job yet, I want to celebrate. I never imagined, even six months ago, that I’d be venturing out into the world again, applying for jobs that don’t involve sitting at home alone. A year ago, I never dreamed that I’d have such a supportive fiance´e, who would reassure me again and again when my confidence flagged. I amproudof where I am, no matter what job I get.

What should we do to celebrate? Dinner out isn’t an option, unless we want to watch each other nibble tiny bites for appearance’s sake. We do have some favorite bars and lounges, but I’m thinking I’d like to do something a bit more private…

As I continue down the street, a unique storefront catches my eye, and I come to a halt. This looks perfect! It’s a store I wouldn’t have considered in the past, but the intriguing arrangement of items on display has me lingering, thinking about all the possibilities.

The name of the store is Désir Secret, which I translate using my rusty high school French into secret desire. Resting among swathes of silk, there is an array of exotic sex toys in the front window, a whip made of feathers catching my eye. I envision the toy being used as a featured item in the bedroom tonight, delicious chills running up my back.We could have some fun with that.

Thirty minutes later, I’m back outside, clutching a large black shopping bag filled with treasures. I can’t wait until Ethan sees everything I’ve bought. Should I show him everything at once, or introduce a different item each night? I’m bursting with excitement, but stretching out the experience could make things more fun. Such tough decisions…

I’m wrapped up in my thoughts until I bump into the man walking in front of me. As I step back and blurt out a quick apology, the young man’s eyebrows raise in amusement. In a flash of awareness, I realize that part of the feathered whip is peeking out of the bag, and I flush bright red.

Ducking my head, I rush off before I can implode from embarrassment. Maybe I should order this stuff online next time. Then I imagine Ethan’s laughter as I tell him how I got busted on the street with a sex toy in full display, and can’t be too upset at the mishap.

It’s only mid afternoon by the time I arrive back at our apartment, which gives me plenty of time to prepare for our special evening. I take the bag of toys into the bedroom, then head to the bathroom for a shower. It’s a relief to get out of my tight skirt and stockings; I’m used to wearing comfortable jeans or yoga pants when I work from home. It will be something to get used to when I return to the professional world.

But it’s a sacrifice I’ll be glad to make, if it means I’m able to work in a career I enjoy. I used to find comfort in the tedium of my medical transcription job, not having to interact with anything other than my computer screen. I want a job that I’m proud of; that will bring challenges and growth.

I shower in a happy daze, mind filled with thoughts of new jobs and adventures.Including some in the bedroom.Smiling, I walk from the bathroom to the adjoining bedroom and pick out some clothes. I’ll wear jeans and a long-sleeved top for now, but I have something sexier to wear for later. My phone is lying on the bed where I tossed it, and I can see that I’ve missed a text from Ethan.

I reach over to pick it up, trying to decide if I’ll give him a hint of my purchases from today. My hand is inches away when I freeze, all senses buzzing in alarm.Something is wrong. Motionless, I still my breathing to focus on the cause of this sweeping fear. I can’t hear anything inside the apartment; the only noise is the lull of the midday traffic outside.

I want to tell myself it’s nothing, the ominous sensation nothing more than lingering nerves from this morning. As much as Iwantit to be nothing, it’snot. Inching the last few inches to my phone, I sweep it up with a hand that’s trembling. Something iswrong.

Every muscle in my body tenses, quivering in response to some unknown catalyst. What should I do? I’ve never experienced this crushing feeling of dread before, even in that horrible gray room many years ago. Then, the terror was like teeth tearing at me, raw and painful. Now… it’s like some sort of sinister darkness is coming closer, heavy and suffocating.

No. Stop it. This isn’t real. This is just my subconscious messing with me, still harboring remnants of the dark prediction Roman made when we all met. Brought on by the stress of the interview, I’m letting my mind get the best of me. I’ll look around the apartment to find nothing wrong, then feel foolish about this irrational fear. I’ll just go out and look. Decision made, I take a step towards the bedroom door.

And then… it’s there. Just the tiniest of things. A faint odor from within the apartment, noticeable only now that I’m near the door. It’s oily and sour. Nothing I can identify other than knowing it doesn’t belong here. And evidence that I’m not imagining things. This scent iswrong. The lack of sound isn’t right.

What should I do?This is no ordinary threat; I know it all the way to my core. An ordinary intruder would make some noise, some rustling or low footsteps. I could handle a burglar easily with my enhanced speed and strength. This is no burglar; the absolute stillness gives it away more than any noise could.

I need silence on my side too, so I turn off the ringer on my phone. I try to focus on the smell, to figure out if it’s getting any stronger. Closer. Unsure of my next move, I do the only thing I can think of and text Ethan.

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