“I didn’t say give it to your father. It’s for you, on one condition.”

“Yes?”

“You have to buy something for yourself. Something pretty.”

I was speechless.

“Thank you,” I finally managed to say.

He gave me that sly wink, again. “See? Business is already looking up.”

He took the tin and walked out the door.

I never took my eyes off him until he disappeared out of view of the window. Then, I turned to Patricia Fleming. She was pretending to look at a shelf of tonics.

“Can I help you find something?” I asked.

She gave me another insincere smile. “No, thank you,” she said. “It’s all a little expensive for my tastes.”

I tried to match her insincerity with a false smile of my own.

“Best of luck with the pharmacy,” she said, then turned and walked out the door.

I was upset at her rudeness but then I remembered; he called me ‘a lovely creature’ and that I should buy something pretty for myself.

As I watched Patricia walk away, my gaze drifted towards the jewelers across the square.

I think I shall have to pay them a visit.

Good night.

4

I’m awoken by the sickening crunch of metal slamming into metal and glass shattering, just outside my bedroom door.

Then, silence.

I open my eyes and sit up.

The room is filled with a faint black fog.

I climb off the bed and listen at the door. There’s a faint noise on the other side.

… tick … tick … tick … tick …

I open the door and walk through.

The black fog blankets the intersection. The pavement is littered in broken glass and bits of metal. Small wisps of steam and smoke escape from the crumpled hood of the pickup truck that slammed into our car. The force of the impact has melded the two vehicles together into one disfigured, twisted heap.

The traffic light above the intersection blinks red.

… tick … tick … tick … tick …

The black fog seems to guide me over to the wreckage. The bits of glass puncture my bare feet as I walk across the pavement, but I don’t feel it.

I can’t see inside the truck, but I know what’s in there: the body of the driver, pressed against the steering wheel.

I don’t want this. I don’t want to see this, but the black fog urges me forward.

I get closer to the car.

Through the remains of the shattered window, I see Nicole’s mangled, decimated body. Her head is twisted at an unnatural angle. Her face is covered in blood. Her eyes are open. They stare straight ahead but see nothing.