Cellie's POV
I knew something was wrong before I had cleared the doorway.
It was the sound first, or the absence of it, the particular quality of quiet that descended on a normally loud space when everyone was being careful. Rico's at ten in the morning was usually a background hum of prep work and music and the easy noise of people doing their jobs without thinking about them too hard. Today it was low voices and deliberate movements and the specific stillness of people who were acutely aware of something I was not yet aware of.
I stepped inside and the nearest table of early customers looked at me and then looked away in the focused manner of people who had been doing nothing and wanted me to know that specifically.
I kept walking.
