Is that her?” she heard, though no one around her said it.

No one else noticed it, either, judging by the lack of reaction. Then again, they were all chanting “nine” a moment ago, so maybe they didn’t know what weird was.

Anything was possible. Apparently.

“She doesn’t seem to be right, though,” said a second disembodied voice.

“Did you hear someone say something?” she asked a woman staring forlornly at a blank page and a blinking cursor.

“Huh?” The word echoed as though from very far away.

“Taryn?” said the barista, nodding toward the paper cup on the counter, handing her a crinnky bag with the donnut.

“Thanks,” she said and shouldered her way out of the door.

She was about half a block toward home when there was a sigh from everywhere and nowhere at all. Not a soul ahead, not a hint of a person  behind, just a brazen city squirrel scattering husks on the sidewalk.

“I suppose,” that second voice said, words heavy with resignation, “she will have to do.”

Until next time…