A False Compromise

Twice that day Emma had seen movement, or rather felt it. Mid conversation she jumped at a shape flying from the side, of which there was otherwise no trace. The other party showed no sign of noticing. Later she ducked suddenly walking down the street but looking back there was nothing.

She sat in the window of a coffee chain, warming her hands on a skinny cappuccino and watching the pigeons outside attacking a fallen croissant amidst a stampede of suited commuters. There was a presence behind her and this time she found a woman squeezing past, balancing a tray and an assortment of shopping bags.

"Do you mind..." delivered as a statement as she took the next stool. Emma moved her own handbag to accomodate the woman's haul. She was surprised to see that most of the bags contained books and the woman caught her tilting her head to read the spines. "You read much?"

"I, erm, no. I should. I write." She caught something emerging through the window and span her head.

"It's okay." The woman put a hand on Emma's. The hand was warm and Emma looked down at it; she'd forgotten. She looked back at the window, which was intact, and out at the street where the stampede had thinned.

"I thought I saw..."

"There's nothing there." Fingers curled around Emma's hand. Again the wndow bulged but the hand squeezed and retained her attention. "There's nothing out there."

"There's something.."

"There's just you."

"And you I guess." She let out a nervous chuckle. The window strained and the hand squeezed to repel it. Emma looked the woman in the eye. She wore heavy eyeliner, giving a false impression of youth. "And you?" Steadier this time.

The woman said nothing but leant in, placing the other hand on Emma's shoulder. This time Emma recoiled and contact was lost. The window bellowed like a sheet on a line and then shattered onto the pavement. Passers by leapt out of the way and Emma rose involuntarily. She stared out and they stared in, the spell broken only when the woman passed between them without acknowledgement. Emma leant forward placing her hand on the window frame, cutting it on a protruding shard. Behind her, movement, but nothing.