Maya had always lived a quiet life. The kind of life where every morning began with the comforting hum of the espresso machine and the scent of freshly ground coffee beans filling the air. She worked as a barista in the small town of Oakridge, a sleepy place where everyone knew everyone else, and things rarely changed. The coffee shop was a refuge for locals—a place where she could chat with regulars, learn about their days, and share in their small-town gossip. Life was predictable, and Maya loved it that way. It was a comfort. An anchor.
The shop had a certain charm, with its weathered wooden floors, mismatched furniture, and walls lined with old, framed photographs of Oakridge’s early years. The small community had embraced her, and Maya had embraced it right back, giving her a sense of belonging that she’d never known before. She was content with the simplicity of her days, each one blending into the next like the slow drip of coffee from the machine.
It was late on a Thursday evening when the storm began. Maya was just finishing up her closing routine—wiping down counters, stacking chairs, and making sure the place was clean for the next morning—when she heard the first gust of wind rattling against the windows. By the time she locked the door, the rain had started to pour in torrents, turning the street outside into a blur of water and wind. The trees bent beneath the pressure, and the air smelled of wet earth and electricity. It was a storm that came out of nowhere, fierce and unrelenting, making the streets of Oakridge seem even quieter than usual.
Maya paused by the window, watching the storm rage. The soft chime of her phone broke her reverie. She glanced at the screen and saw a message from an unknown number. Her frown deepened. It was odd to get a text at this hour, especially from someone she didn’t recognize. Curiosity piqued, she picked up her phone.
The message was strange. It consisted of nothing but a single line of numbers:
7:42
Maya stared at the message for a long moment, trying to make sense of it. At first, she thought it might have been some kind of mistake—an automated text from a wrong number. But then, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something more. She was about to shrug it off when the sound of a crash startled her.
Maya’s heart skipped a beat as she rushed to the back of the shop, where the noise had come from. The storage room was dark except for the pale light filtering in through the window, but nothing seemed out of place. That was, until she saw the mug lying on the floor, shattered into pieces. She knelt down to clean it up, her brow furrowed. The mug had been sitting perfectly on the shelf just moments before. It wasn’t like her to knock things over, especially not in the way it had fallen—balanced on the edge of the shelf as if pushed by some unseen hand.
She finished cleaning the mess, still unsettled by the strange coincidence, when her phone buzzed again. She hesitated before checking it. Another message.
8:10
Again, only numbers. Her stomach tightened. It felt too deliberate, too precise to be random. It had been hours since she’d last checked her phone, yet somehow, she had received two messages within minutes of each other. It wasn’t just strange—it was unsettling. She shook her head, trying to push the anxiety away. It was probably nothing, just nerves.
Still, the unease lingered as she returned to the counter to finish closing up the shop. Her hand trembled slightly as she wiped down the counter, but she forced herself to focus. A screech of tires outside the window snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked up just in time to see the tail lights of a car speeding down the road, disappearing into the night.
It was 8:10.
Maya’s eyes narrowed. The timing couldn’t have been a coincidence, not now. She tried to shake off the creeping dread, but the storm outside seemed to be amplifying her anxiety, the wind howling louder and louder as the minutes passed. She picked up her broom, her hands still shaking, and began sweeping the floor. But as soon as she started, another message came through.
9:30
Her mind raced. This was no longer a coincidence. The numbers. The timing. There was a pattern to it. Maya’s heart began to race in tandem with her thoughts. She had a sinking feeling that someone, or something, was watching her. But why? Who was behind the messages? And what did they want?
She could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She set the broom down, still staring at the phone in disbelief. It was as if the universe had suddenly become too aware of her, and now everything was connected in a way that didn’t make sense. Each message, each moment, felt like it was pulling her deeper into something she couldn’t understand.
Then the message she had been dreading arrived.
10:03 Look outside.
Maya’s blood ran cold. This wasn’t a prank. This wasn’t just some random series of events. Whoever was sending these messages knew too much. They knew exactly what she was doing, where she was, and what time it was. They were in control.
With her breath coming in shallow gasps, Maya forced herself to move toward the window. She didn’t want to look, but something told her she had to. She pulled back the curtains with trembling fingers, her chest tight with anxiety. The storm outside had intensified, the rain coming down in sheets, the wind whipping at the trees. The streetlamp cast a dim, eerie glow across the wet pavement, and the shadows around the shop seemed to stretch unnaturally.
At first, she saw nothing. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her hands began to sweat. But then, at the very edge of the parking lot, she saw it.
A figure.
A person, standing motionless in the rain, their outline barely visible against the darkness of the night. The figure was still, unmoving, like a statue. For a moment, Maya couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know who it was, but something in the way they stood made her blood run cold. The figure seemed to be waiting for her to notice them, as though they knew she was watching, as though they had always been there, just beyond the edge of her perception.
Maya stared, frozen in place, trying to process what she was seeing. There was something disturbingly familiar about the figure, though she couldn’t quite place it. Her mind raced, trying to connect the dots, but the more she thought about it, the more confused she became. The figure remained there, staring back at her, and she felt a deep, gnawing sense of recognition. But it wasn’t a recognition that made sense. It was more like a memory locked away in the deepest corners of her mind, just out of reach.
After what felt like an eternity, she could no longer ignore the growing sense of dread that was consuming her. She had to act. She grabbed her jacket from the back of the counter, the weight of it heavy in her hands. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but she wasn’t sure if it was from fear or something else. Something primal told her she couldn’t just stay inside.
Without thinking, she stepped outside into the storm.
The rain hit her like needles, and the wind bit at her skin, but she didn’t care. Her steps echoed on the wet pavement as she walked toward the parking lot, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. The figure was still there, motionless, waiting for her. The storm seemed to quiet around them, the howling wind becoming muffled, the world narrowing down to the figure in front of her.
As she drew closer, her heart skipped a beat. The figure turned toward her.
It was a man.
Maya stopped dead in her tracks. His face was unfamiliar, but there was something about him. Something about the way he looked at her, something that sent a jolt through her chest. Her mind raced as she tried to place him, but it was like trying to remember a name that just wouldn’t come. There was a familiarity to him, but it was elusive.
And then, as if sensing her confusion, the man spoke, his voice low and steady.
“You remember me, don’t you?”
Maya’s breath caught in her throat. The truth hit her like a bolt of lightning. The past she had buried so deeply had never really gone away. It had been waiting for her all along, lurking in the shadows, waiting for her to remember. The storm raged around them, but Maya could no longer hear it. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heart and the terrifying realization that her quiet life in Oakridge was never as simple as it had seemed.