Hanna moved slowly along the snack aisles, her steps unhurried. Brightly colored packages were lined up in perfect rows, as if no one had touched them in days. She picked one up, then another, not because she really wanted them—just to pass the time.
Through the narrow gap between the shelves, she could see her mother at the counter. Victoria was laughing softly at something Mr. Felix had said. The old man still stood straight despite his hair being almost completely white. His voice carried a deep, steady vibration—the kind you heard in someone who had seen too much of life to be easily shaken.
"Hi, Hanna. How are you?" he greeted when he noticed her approaching.
"I'm doing fine, Mr. Felix. Thank you for asking."
Mr. Felix smiled, his gaze shifting to Victoria.
"She's starting to look just like you."
Victoria only gave a small smile—calm, appreciative, but quiet.
Hanna placed two packets of snacks on the counter. While Mr. Felix totaled the price, she stepped away, drifting toward the glass wall near the store entrance.
Outside, the small street of Silverpine looked as empty as ever—until a black SUV appeared, moving slowly.
Too slowly to just be passing through.
In that moment, Hanna didn't understand why her chest tightened. It wasn't fear.
Just… unease.
The driver was the same man. His worn cowboy hat still tilted to the left. This time, she could see his face clearly through the window.
He lifted one hand slightly off the steering wheel—not a wave, just a small motion, subtle but unmistakably meant for her.
"What are you looking at?" her mother's voice came from behind.
Hanna startled and quickly turned, pointing toward the window.
"That—"
"That what?" Victoria looked outside too, her expression blank. "There's nothing there."
Hanna turned back.
The black SUV was gone.
"There was…" she murmured, her discomfort rising quietly in her chest.
Victoria gave a small smile. "It's getting late. We should head home."
Hanna followed behind her, but her thoughts stayed tangled around the image of that vehicle. Once outside the store, she glanced to the right again, searching.
Nothing.
The evening air felt colder now. For some reason, the fine hairs on her arms stood on end.
"Hurry up, Hanna," her mother called.
"Yeah…" she answered, but before getting into the truck, she cast one more look down the road.
On the drive home, Hanna stayed silent. Her eyes faced forward, but her mind was elsewhere. The SUV replayed over and over in her head. It was the first time she had ever seen a vehicle like that in Silverpine.
What unsettled her even more was her sense of smell. It had been growing sharper lately. Back in town, even from a distance, she had caught a scent when she looked at those men—a strange, rotten smell that made her throat tighten with nausea.
"What do you want for dinner tonight, Hanna?" Victoria asked, hands steady on the wheel.
No answer.
Victoria glanced sideways. "Hanna."
Still nothing.
"Hanna."
"Yeah?" she finally responded on the third call, her expression slightly dazed.
"What are you thinking about that you didn't hear me?"
"Nothing… What did you say?"
"I asked what you want to eat tonight."
"Anything is fine. I don't mind."
Victoria smiled faintly. "I was thinking I'd make spaghetti with meat sauce tonight. Garlic bread too. Maybe some fried chicken. It'll take a little time. Is that okay?"
Hanna looked at her mother. This time her smile was softer, reaching her eyes.
"That's more than okay. I'd love that."
Victoria laughed quietly, and the atmosphere in the car felt lighter.
________
Night slowly settled in. Through the kitchen window, the outside world had already turned completely dark. Only the backyard light remained on, casting moving shadows of trees swaying gently in the wind.
Inside, the kitchen felt warm and alive. The scent of tomatoes simmered for hours with ground meat filled the air. Garlic from earlier sautéing still lingered faintly. Fresh garlic bread sat on the table, steam rising in thin curls.
Hanna helped without saying much. She carried two plates of spaghetti and set them carefully on the dining table. The soft clink of ceramic against wood sounded gentle in the quiet house.
Victoria came from the kitchen carrying a pot of sauce.
"Can you grab the fried chicken, Hanna?" she asked.
Hanna returned to the kitchen and picked up the plate of still-hot chicken. The skin was golden, slightly glossy with oil.
"Smells so good…" Hanna said softly, her tone lighter now. "It's been a while since you cooked like this."
Victoria smiled as she sat down. "It's not that I didn't want to cook. You're the one who prefers simple fried meat."
"Because it's easy. I don't want to make things hard for you."
Victoria looked at her, warmth in her eyes. "Hey… for my daughter, I'd cook anything she likes."
Hanna grinned wide, her white teeth showing. There was warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the food—something deeper, the feeling of being cared for. She picked up a piece of fried chicken, the skin crisp beneath her fingers.
Victoria ladled spaghetti sauce over Hanna's noodles, the thick red coating spreading across the yellow strands. Steam rose with a comforting aroma.
"Let's eat."
Hanna nodded.
For a moment, there was only the sound of forks touching plates and small sighs of satisfaction. The smell of food, the warm glow of the lights, her mother sitting across from her, speaking now and then—it felt peaceful.
But it didn't last.
Hanna lifted a forkful of spaghetti toward her mouth.
Her hand froze in midair.
She inhaled.
Her nose caught something.
She sniffed again. Deeper. Her brow began to crease.
That smell.
Not tomato sauce. Not fried chicken.
Something else.
Why does it smell like this? she thought.
"What's wrong, Hanna?" Victoria immediately noticed the change in her expression.
"Mom… don't you smell that?"
"Smell what?" Victoria inhaled too, trying to catch whatever Hanna meant. She sniffed a few times. "I don't smell anything."
Hanna didn't answer right away. She slowly set her fork down on the plate. Then she pushed her chair back and stood. She sniffed again, more focused now, turning slightly as if trying to locate the source.
Seeing her daughter's strange behavior, Victoria stood as well, placing her fork on the table.
"What do you smell, Hanna?"
"A smell…" Hanna replied halfway, her voice low. "Back in town. I smelled this too. The same smell… after I looked at those men. They were in that strange car."
Victoria's face shifted slightly. A faint line appeared on her forehead.
"Maybe someone around here?" she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
"No, Mom." Hanna shook her head. "They were dressed strangely. All wearing black jackets. At the store… one of them looked at me from the car. Like he knew me."
A brief silence fell.
Suddenly, Victoria stepped forward and grabbed Hanna's hand.
"Come. Now."
"Mom—what's wrong?" Hanna was startled by the sudden movement. The grip was tight.
Victoria didn't answer. Her face was clearly tense now. She pulled Hanna out of the dining room, heading straight toward her bedroom.
"Mom, what's happening?" Hanna asked again, her voice unable to hide the fear creeping in.
They were already inside the room.
Victoria still said nothing. She opened Hanna's wardrobe and began pushing through the hanging clothes in a rush, as if searching for something specific.
Hanna stood frozen in the middle of the room.
And the smell…
was getting closer.