text: She knew the cafe well, but today something was wrong. The shadows would sway and breathe as if responding to her movement while she made her way to her seat. She adjusted her sunglasses and swallowed, widening her eyes as the darkness filled the air around her like thick fumes. She felt as if something were reaching into her chest, squeezing her heart to feel whether it were ripe enough to pick. As she takes her usual seat in the corner she notices a man, his gaze locked on her as she settles. She trembles and fidgets with her glasses once more, unable to hide from the swirls of black ebbing and flowing around her. "It's all right" she said to herself, as she looked to find her server. It was like trying to see through a blizzard. As she scanned the room, she noticed the man was gone from his seat. "It's all right" he whispered into her ear. Startled, she turned to face him not a foot from her face. She couldn't move, she could only feel a rush and a chill. He lifted her glasses, and she stared into his eyes. Black--nothing but black. She tilted her head back, gasping for air as she drowned in the darkness. He pulled back; she exhaled, collapsing on the small table, her cheek pressed to the cold sanitized surface. A feeling of comforting familiarity washed over her, "maybe this is just how I will always feel" she says without a single blink, as she reads the writing carved into the table: "And the rugged wheel is turning another round". In truth, She felt nothing. And she liked it. She learned to like it. She watched the man standing there, her heart in his fist. The darkness continued to fill the room, until there was nothing but the sound of distant beating.