Vince walked the streets of Greyford late that afternoon. The sun had begun its slow descent, stretching shadows across the pavement in long, uncertain lines.
Every step felt measured, almost too precise. He noticed the same shadows leaning against walls or tucked in alley corners, the same people crossing streets at the same moments he had seen before.
Patterns.
Not mistakes, not coincidences. Patterns.
At the square, a group of children played near the fountain. Their laughter was bright but hollow, echoing too evenly. He glanced toward the school. A shadow moved between the trees ~ gone before he could focus.
Caleb stood nearby, leaning against the brick wall of the town hall. Arms loose, weight on one heel. He didn't look at Vince but his presence made the air heavier.
"You've been watching," Caleb said softly, voice casual.
"I'm not watching," Vince said. "Just observing."
Caleb snorted, just enough to suggest amusement. "Observation becomes notice fast. Town doesn't forget."
Vince said nothing. Caleb rarely needed to explain further.
He wandered to the edge of Pine Road Woods. Footprints marked the damp soil, some fresh, some older, overlapping in a way that made no sense. A gate creaked in the distance. He stopped. No one there. The forest seemed to shift slightly ~ as if it were aware of him.
Later, at the diner, Vince overheard fragments of conversation.
"…things shouldn't come back like this…"
"…better if it stays hidden…"
The words vanished when he looked up. No one seemed to notice him.
Outside, the streetlights flickered on. A car passed slowly, too slow for comfort, headlights dimmed. Vince didn't recognize it. A person walked past the window, pause enough to glance at him, then continue into shadow.
He sat on the curb near the bakery and watched. The world felt rearranged ~ quiet and deliberate.
Inside, Rose Hill was arranging bread trays, her hands steady, her eyes scanning the street. Vince caught her glance, subtle and knowing. She didn't smile. She never did when she knew something.
Vince made a note of small things:
Footprints overlapping near the school fence
Door to the east wing slightly ajar ~ no one should have entered
Movement near the tree line he couldn't explain
Car passing slowly twice within the hour
Subtle glances from townsfolk
Patterns.
He felt the weight of it. The town was not chaotic. It was silent but deliberate.
When he returned home, the house seemed darker than usual. The porch light blinked briefly as if acknowledging him, then returned to steady.
Vince opened his notebook but didn't write. Some things could not be captured on paper.
Outside, a single shadow passed quickly, disappearing near the woods. Familiar. But unplaceable.
He closed the notebook. The quiet pressed in around him, heavier than it had before.
Tomorrow, he would see the same patterns again. And something would break them.