Grace's POV

"Just these?" The cashier asked me, looking down at the only three things I had managed to buy from this grocery store before looking back at me.

It was difficult to look and choose anything that might categorize as food. I'd barely eaten anything since this morning. I had barely eaten anything since I came back here from Manhattan--which had been two days ago. God only knew how I was even alive at this point.

I nodded at the girl. Without any more questions, she checked out my things and gave me the receipt. I exited the store with the shopping bag in my hand.

I wasn't even sure why I had gone to the grocery store in the first place. Perhaps I just needed to leave my house. The walls had felt like they were closing in on me. The empty, lonely house had felt like it was slowly crushing my airways. I needed to get out of there and not feel so trapped.

Pulling the hood over my head, I stuffed my free hand into my pocket. It was getting quite cold here in Hayward, even if it was just afternoon right now.

I looked around the street at the people walking by. So carefree, so ignorant of the emotions circling them. Invisible. I had missed the atmosphere here. People here were more carefree than the ones there in Manhattan. They looked happy here. In Manhattan, they just walked around like the burden over them was just too much.

Or maybe that had just been me.

I sighed and hung my head low, walking past an old-aged couple who seemed to be enjoying the weather. What must it feel like? I wondered shortly before looking away.

I didn't exactly know where I was going. I just kept walking, with the cool breeze caressing my face, until someone opened the glass doors of the shop right beside me, nearly hitting me in the face if I hadn't pulled back instantly.

"Oh shit. I'm so sorry!" A tall girl blurted out, eyes wide and apologetic. "Are you all right?"

I exhaled slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, it's all right."

She murmured another small apology before exiting the shop. I watched her leave and I watched the glass doors almost about to swing shut when I caught a glimpse of the inside. It looked like an antique store. And it smelled like cinnamon and wood--it smelled so briefly like home. Memories, so many of them. A vague tug that pulled me towards it.

Instead of walking away, which I should've done, I pushed open the door and stepped inside the shop. Thin glass rods chimed against each other as I entered. Wind chimes. There were so many of them, and it was so beautiful the way they were tinkering and making those soft melodies.

The shop was a lot more spacious than it had looked from the outside. Apart from me, there was a woman and another family here. Both the shopkeepers were busy with them.

I walked towards the shelves and my eyes wandered from one small ornament to another. Everything felt too delicate to touch. Fragile. And I was afraid I'd break it.

That's exactly when I saw it.

A tiny glass pendant in the shape of a bottle, with a black leather string wrapped around it. It was a necklace. A very familiar one. A necklace I used to have.

For a second there, I was hit with such immense familiarity of it that I actually thought this was mine. But I knew it couldn't have been. It'd been so long ago anyway. Papa had brought it for me from one of his travel researches when I was just nine.

I reached out and touched the glass pendant with my finger. Cautious. Scared. It had a bright green stone inside it--another reason why it couldn't have been mine. The necklace that Papa gave me had a fiery red stone inside it, not a green one.

Fire. It used to remind me of fire.

Until I gave it to someone. Someone who used to mean a lot to me. Someone who still means a lot to me.

I let go of the pendant almost abruptly when sudden voices erupted from outside, almost like a commotion. The other customers started heading outside and so did the shopkeepers. Frowning, I followed them out too, not sure what it could've been that was worth a commotion.

For the first few seconds, I didn't see anything. There were cars, there were people, yes, but nothing that seemed worthy of attention.

But then I slowly made out the crowd surrounding the corner of the street, right where the dumpsters were.

I was walking towards them without a second thought. My heart rate spiked when I noticed the horrified looks and the shocked gasps, and then I was pushing past people to see. To see what had happened.

And then I froze.

Right in the middle of the old alley was a girl, lying down on the ground. Mud caked her hair and her face in small bits. That wasn't it, though. Her lips had gone blue, a cold dead blue, and her skin so pale like snow. Her eyes were wide open as if she'd just seen a ghost.

She was dead.

Perhaps that wasn't even the most alarming thing for me. That's not what made my heart leap in my chest. That's not what made me think that I was falling--falling and falling into a deep endless pit.

It was the black rose clutched in her hand that made me freeze. Black petals curled into her dark ebony hair. Black, black, black. And it was my heart that was thudding so painfully in my chest. Because I saw it.

No one noticed, but I did.

Because I had seen this before; a memory I could never forget.