A Bit to Read

9.

It’s difficult to know what to do when a giant ghostly numeral invades your home, but in Taryn’s case, she decided to pretend it didn’t exist and, instead, went to bed, hoping in the morning, like so many things, the problem would solve itself.

Perhaps not the most rational way to cope, but it’s not as if the city had a number you could call. So it was with relief she saw, as she peeked around the corner from the hallway from the bedroom, that the ten was gone, if ever it was. She was tired. Things happen.
Well not that kind of thing but it was gone so…whatever.

She passed her neighbor from two floors down on the stoop as she headed out, the air that fresh only an early Spring morning can deliver. He was paging through a stack of mail.

“Morning,” she said, her tone even. If she was honest, he seemed a little odd, though he also probably hadn’t had a giant ten in his living room so who was calling who odd.

He nodded, not looking away from the stack in the tell-tale colors and gloss of junk. “Nine,” he said.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to look back at him. “Sorry?”

“What?” He tore himself away from some kind of tool catalog.

“Did you just say—“

“I didn’t say anything,” he said, and yanked the glass door open, then strode through it leaving it slightly ajar.

Yes, odd.

But she wanted coffee and no one would let a little weirdness get in the way of coffee. After a quick walk, Taryn got in line at her newly favorite little place, all the tables already staked out.

“Hey Avery,” she said to the person at the register, “I’ll take the vanilla latte today.”

“Nine,” Avery said, eyes a little more glazed than the usual.

“Nine dollars?” said Taryn.

“No, $6.50, you’re getting the donut, right?”

“Uh huh.”

Moving off to the side, Taryn leaned against the wall, waiting for the barista to get to her order, listening to the soothing whir and swish of the foaming milk. Only it wasn’t so soothing.

If she listened to it, tuning out all the other sounds, she heard it. “Nine. Nine. Nine.”

She swore all the people staring at their computers, their tablets, their phones, spread out but one to a table, soon joined in. “Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine. Nine.” Not one of them looked at her. Not one of them looked at each other.

And then things got really weird.

Until next time…