External Point of View
Raven's Shade, late July 2022.
Summer had swallowed the small town like a warm haze.
The surrounding hills shimmered under the light, and the river—lower than usual—wound lazily between the rocks, stretching its golden reflections toward the edges of the houses.
In the streets, the morning heat already clung to the skin.
Shutters creaked, dogs dozed in the shade, and the first brave souls exchanged sleepy good mornings, their eyes hidden behind sunglasses.
Raven's Shade wasn't very big—just a few thousand souls, an old town center encircled by woods, a main road lined with shops and cafés bearing faded signs.
But beneath this apparent tranquility, something was taking shape.
A mystery.
A whisper only the most attentive could hear.
At the heart of the town, where the main street split in two, stood the Shade Diner.
Its faded red sign flickered weakly above still-fogged windows.
In barely a year and a half, the place had become the beating heart of Raven's Shade.
A hub for gossip and confessions, a refuge for workers and loners alike.
William Harper, the owner—a man whose forties showed clearly—had been busy there since dawn.
No one really knew where he came from.
People said he had bought the old diner when it was nothing more than a dusty shell, pouring all his savings into it, along with his energy—and perhaps a secret or two.
Since then, he had become a familiar figure in town—without ever truly belonging to it.
The bell above the door chimed softly.
A young woman stepped inside, leaving behind the stifling morning heat.
Claire.
She wore a fitted black top that highlighted the slenderness of her arms, and a long black skirt with a slit, scattered with small red flowers—elegant, yet comfortable for the season.
Tall black boots completed the outfit, giving her an air of confidence that contrasted with her slightly tense movements.
Her curly hair was pulled into a high ponytail.
In her hands, her Bluetooth earbuds still vibrated faintly, playing what sounded like a rhythmic track.
"Hey, Sam," she said, removing the earbuds.
The young Amerindian man with dark hair and light eyes looked up from the coffee machine.
"Well, what brings you here today?"
"I wonder," she replied, a tired smile on her lips.
"Bad night?"
She shrugged.
"Let's just say I thought way too much."
They exchanged a few casual words amid the clinking of cups.
But despite the light tone, Sam could tell Claire wasn't herself.
Her fingers tapped nervously against the counter.
Her gaze kept drifting toward the large wall clock.
After a moment, she excused herself and headed toward the restroom, phone in hand.
When she came back out, the place was livelier: two regulars chatting near the window, the radio playing an old song from the '80s.
But a deep voice, coming from William's office, caught her attention.
The door was slightly ajar.
Claire moved closer, quietly.
Inside stood a man.
Seen from behind.
Broad-shouldered, wearing a dark jacket, his neck stiff, hair cut short.
He spoke in a low voice, but it vibrated like restrained thunder.
William, facing him, looked nervous, his fingers tapping a pen frantically against his desk.
Claire narrowed her eyes, trying to get a better look.
"Planning on listening much longer?" a voice said behind her.
She jumped violently.
Sam, leaning against the wall, was watching her with a teasing smile.
"Damn it, Sam! Are you trying to kill me?"
"I called you several times," he laughed. "Thought you were in a trance."
"Who's in there?"
He shrugged.
"No idea. Maybe a customer. Or someone from his family?"
"He has family here?"
"I don't know. You know how secretive William is about his life—or his family."
Claire fell silent, her gaze returning to the now-closed door.
Then a car horn startled her.
"Well, I've gotta go," she said, grabbing her order.
"Take care," Sam called after her.
She nodded, pushed open the door, and was immediately swallowed by the heat outside.
A black SUV waited double-parked.
She climbed inside.
"You took long enough—gave me a scare."
"Sorry, I was in the restroom," she said, fastening her seatbelt.
"Stop making that face. Everything will be fine," the other person said, starting the engine.
"I hope so."
She cast one last look at the diner.
William's office was now empty.
But in the side alley, a silhouette—the unknown man—had just disappeared on foot, heading toward the town center.
And without knowing why, a cold shiver crept up Claire's spine.