She suddenly woke up due to the creaking sound and the sudden breeze that enveloped her, coming from the door. Blinking slowly, she sat up and looked toward the living room. The door had opened again.
But there was no fear in her eyes.
She was used to it—the old wooden door had long been broken, and fixing it was a luxury they couldn't afford. It would creak open in the middle of the night with just the slightest wind, letting the cold air seep in. She pulled the thin blanket off her legs and sat up fully, feeling oddly alert. For some reason, she didn't feel like going back to sleep.
She glanced over at her twin sister, still sound asleep, curled on the other side of the bed. Quietly, she got up, walked to the drawer by the wall, and picked up a crumpled piece of paper and a pen. She scribbled down a few words so her sister wouldn't grow worried when she woke up and didn't see her. She folded the note and left it gently on the table, placing a small stone over it so it wouldn't blow away.
She didn't know why she felt so drawn to step outside tonight. But she didn't question it either.
She opened the door fully and stepped into the dim night. The wind was light but carried a strange chill. She made her way past the front porch and glanced at the small, handmade side bakery—something they had patched together beside their old house. It wasn't much, but it was all they had. A shop barely holding itself together, yet it was their only source of income.
They couldn't afford to rent a proper place, so the two of them worked out of this little joint, baking through the night and selling at dawn to local vendors. The sign above it was fading, and the wood was cracked in places, but it stood as a symbol of their effort, of survival.
She stood there for a moment, staring at the door of the bakery, then slowly turned her gaze to the road ahead. There were no cars, no people, just the soft hum of crickets and the distant rustle of trees. She didn't know where she was going, only that tonight felt different—like something was pulling her.
And sometimes, when the world is too quiet, the soul starts to listen