The envelope and invitation threw me for a loop.

I can’t say how long I sat at my table that night, looking for clues. It seemed as if my recollection of time had gone haywire in that time of my life. I could make a long list of nights that seemed to drag on in unnatural ways.

Not that it mattered how long it took me to stand up. By the end I pulled myself away I was no closer to know what it was then when I had walked inside the door with it.

I set the thing on top of my bedroom dresser and tried not to think about it for the rest of the night. A cup of wine, 30-minute dramas on the TV’s and a full night of rest followed that action… and none of them took my mind off it entirely.

I went to work like normal the next day, and back home again. Every time I walked out of my room I glanced at it, knowing that it was one day closer to…that date.

The mysterious date at some location - probably across town. The date where I had to “dress formal.” None of it made sense. A day or two later and I noticed myself rolling my eyes at the doorway to the bedroom every time I passed through. Making it easier and easier to shrug off the expensive looking invitation to a cloak and dagger event.

After a few days, I made the decision to leave it where it sat. I wouldn’t let someone's joke take root in my life.

I went to work the day after that decision and felt my shoulders relax again. My feet weren’t dragging across the wooden floor. Even the sunlight beaming through the larger window brought a little smile to my face. It also made me squint my eyes, but when life throws you lemons- you have to find the sugar somewhere.

Anyone that has ever worked customer service or a retail job would be able to relate to the fact that days can blur. Even when you are taking orders and filling cups- there is a rhythm and a sense of normalcy that can either be relaxing or mind-numbing.

On a day where my thoughts where finally sliding away from business ownership, new hires, and mysterious letters with no postage, I welcomed the combination of the two. Thoughts numbed into the routine of the shop.

Pour the coffee and clean the counter. Take out the trash, and check on the schedule. Stock the fridge, and listen for the bell.

After the sun had gone down that day, I was in the back taking quick stock. Lulls in customer were the perfect time to get routine tasks down without needing to spend an extra 4 hours in an empty coffee shop. The bell rang, and for a brief second, it didn’t register.

My fingers continued to move down the line of coffee containers, counting upwards one at a time. When I heard heavy footsteps near the counter it finally hit me that the bells had rung. My hand froze in the air as I tried to decide whether to rush to the front or finishing counting the stack.

Shaking my head I let my arm swing down to my side. The coffee beans would hold- inventory would always hold, and should always take lower priority than the customers.

When I walked through the door that enclosed the backroom I froze again. The man standing at the counter was the same one that had come in the day I’d received the envelope. The image of his moody eyes and baggy black clothes flashed through my head, leaving my mouth slightly open for longer than I would have liked.

If I had seemed gruff the first time he came in, I must have seemed downright rude at that moment. My eyes widened and I closed my mouth in an effort to get a grip and actually speak.

“Coffee?” he said. His voice was softer than I feared it was going to be. It showed patience that seemed to defy his outward appearance.

“Yes! My apologies. Black?” I pulled the words out as I pushed my feet to the edge of the counter. Behind the register, the scene finally felt more real, which helped me feel in control again.

“Black,” he repeated and slapped a five dollar bill down between us.

A few moments passed after that which made me feel ludicrous forever feeling unsafe or panicky. He waited silently as I filled his cup and put a lid on it. He took his change and slid it in his pocket.

The young man walked to the middle of the shop and sat at one of the tables, picking the chair that had him facing my direction. He pulled out his cell phone and wrapped himself up in whatever business he was in.

A smile fluttered on my lips as I gave him one last glance. As if he sensed my eyes, he looked back up at me.

I don't know if I had ever waffled so fast between comfortable to anxious and irritated as I did at that moment, and I don’t know if it ever happened that fast since. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were squinting. He looked me right in the eye and a slimy smile appeared on half his mouth.

He leered for a good minute before he turned his eyes back down at his phone.

In a hurry to move away from his line of sight I went to the back to send a quick text. It wasn’t meaningful, but it made me feel better to vent to a friend for 2 minutes before going back to keep an eye on the odd customer in my place of business.

When I came back out- he was gone.

I guess that I should have felt relief that he wasn’t there. It meant that he wasn't going to cause any more trouble, and it meant that he couldn’t give me that look again. None of that relief hit, however. I stood there, frozen for the fourth time that night, staring at the table he had been sitting at.

Instead of relief, I felt a wave of panic wash over my body. The little hairs on my neck stood up, and my heart fell into my stomach. If he had let while I was gone, then he had only been there to see me, right?

The thought felt crazy when I isolated it, and I shook my head.

I wasn’t about to go hunting him down, so I did a quick scan of the shop and turned once more. The bells would let me know if anyone else walked in, and I still haven’t finished counting the cans of coffee in the back. Inventory would hold, but it would also help distract me from the weird feelings coursing through me.

Thankful seems like a weak word in some instances. When describing that the clock told me it was time to close up the shop, and the bell hadn’t rung out again, nor had the phone pulled me away from the stock, it is a massive understatement. But it is the best word I can find. I was thankful from my head to my toes that nothing else had happened that night.

I put together my deposit, turned off all the lights, and made my way out the door. My purse was sitting on my shoulder, cell phone and keys sitting inside it. I walked with my head high, even though the breeze was whipping around me.

The fresh air was soothing, and I didn’t want to hide away from it for once. I wanted to feel strong and look confident after the day had made me feel somewhat small and alone. The lamps lit my way through the street. My car was in the parking lot next to the shop, but the bank slip was only a block away.

Five minutes passed and I had the money off my body and in the metal box, and I smiled. One less thing to worry about. I took a deep breath and turned on my heels. As my toes landed back on the sidewalk, my eyes came face to face with a chest, clothed in a black sweater and a scruffy neck.

My eyes looked up, and a lump appeared in my throat before my heart had a chance to beat again. The man from the shop stood there, towering over me with one arm raised. Before I could even look around and pick a direction to run, his hand came down against my cheek.

The motion sent me sprawling backward, landing on the sidewalk behind me with a thud. The impact pushed the air out of my chest in a rush and had me seeing stars. A muffled sound came from his direction, and my purse was ripped from arms. I know that I got loud, but the adrenaline soaring through my body had taken over small things like recognizing what sounds I was actually making.

I remember only small bits and pieces, but I remember trying to stand after he had been gone several moments. His fists and feet flew, and he hadn’t given back a single thing that had been inside my bag. What was left was raw skin, stung by the salt streaming from my eyes. I was a block away from my car and had no way to get in it.

I had no phone, and when I tried to stand one of my ankles screamed. My weight buckled, and I was sitting on the dirty ground again. It was an odd sensation, surreal as reflect. I could glimpse a future where I was home, safe, and secure, yet all I could do was shout for someone to come help.

Here my memory cuts. I don’t think I blacked out- the doctors agreed when I saw them the next day. But the next thing I remember was being in my bed, at home.

A kind stranger I suppose.