The alarm sounded. Her eyes sprung open, ready to jump at a moment’s notice. A second later she realized where she was: her bed. She had fallen asleep without noticing.

It was still as dark outside as it had been last night. Whether the storm still raged or not, she couldn’t tell. The windows were shut.

Yester night’s heat had driven her to extreme measures; she’d opened the window. Then, when that didn’t help, she’d opened every door, including the front one, just to get a small cooling breeze to pass through. It had worked, a little.

Someone apparently didn’t mind living in an active volcano, however.

The alarm continued to blare its music. She couldn’t continue to lie down; she knew that much. But what was the alternative? Stand up? No! Never! She would rather die!

She wouldn’t rather die…

If she had had any say in the matter, she would not have set the alarm to begin with. Or, if she had to, she would still not have set it up on the commode on the lower end of the bed. What’s the use of a bedside table if not to place an annoying alarm there?

Just let her sleep, for god’s sake!

Try as she might, she was unable to stop the alarm only with her thoughts. It continued to emit that the terrible tone. And as the blaring continued, her frustration grew. She wouldn't get any more sleep, not while that abomination of a device did the Dark Gods horrible bidding.

She mustered her strength and kicked off the blanket with all the hatred in the world — even if it hit the wrong target — and rolled over to the side of her bed. Before falling off the edge, she stretched out her leg to reach the ground. Using the momentum that she had built up, she swung herself out of the bed and into a standing position. She wobbled a bit, but quickly caught herself again. It was still WAY too early for her to be at any height, mentally or physically.

With her eyes still half-closed, she made her way over to the bathroom. With slow, stomping steps – to tell the world of her misery – she navigated across the dark room.

She opened the bathroom door and was immediately greeted by the glaring radiation of a thousand suns… or maybe just the glow of a lightbulb. The rectangular patch on the wall that she’d call window just became her worst enemy. Now with closed eyes, she fumbled for the light switch to try and counter the unidirectional offence; it would disturb her less if the whole room was illuminated.

Once she found it and after her eyes had acclimated to her bright surroundings, she was promptly greeted by the next annoyance.

Her brush; hairbrush, to be precise. It wasn’t in its place. As usual.

Right below the currently glaring window on the small shelf, there was her brush – toothbrush – and a bunch of other private products. But her hairbrush? Not there. Where it was? It would be somewhere in the house… could be somewhere in the house.

“Argh,” she argued, “why! Why can’t you just leave it where it belongs!”

Those weren’t questions; she lived alone, so nobody would answer her anyway. No, that was the expression of immense frustration stemming from years of dealing with someone as inconsiderate as that woman on the other side.

She turned around in frustration and returned to her bedroom, this time stomping in anger. She scanned the whole room with hawk-like eyes, looking for the offending piece. The nightstand, the commode, any of the shelfs on the walls. Nothing.

Before she left the room to look downstairs, a shimmer caught her attention. It was likely just her imagination; or intuition, if you will.

She looked up to her bed and, in a practiced motion, jumped onto it. She grabbed the mattress, clawing her nails into it, and threw her body over the edge, hanging on for dear life. Her head hung down to look underneath the bed and there she found it. Lying there, under the bed was her brush.

She grabbed it, and then lost hold with her other hand, sliding off the edge. She hit the ground head first and almost broke her neck from the fall. That’s how it felt for her, anyway.

Back in the bathroom she madly waved her brush around while throwing a myriad of insults into the darkness beyond the window.

The day was already off to a good start.

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Passing by her neighbor’s house, she saw that the door was wide open. Usually, he’d still be fast asleep this early in the morning. That’s probably also how he got all the energy to maintain his eccentric self. It would be a first for him to be at their usual meeting place before her. She could already imagine the fuss he’d make about that – and the nicknames he’d call her from now on. What a pain.

Proceeding on the main road, paved with different sized cobble stones, and spaced irregularly, she soon reached the alley that led to her favorite place; her most beloved coffee shop.

She had to take a detour just to reach it, but she gladly did, every single morning.

It was located down a wide alley, hidden to the side of the town’s only road, if you could call it that. The houses to the side were decorated with various beautiful flowers, curtesy of the florist hidden further inside, no doubt. For marketing reasons, or whatever.

They filled the alley with a strong scent. Despite being a relatively rundown alley, all the flowers emanated aromas that, combined, would make for a sweet contrast. Once she left. Entering was always a bit overwhelming, especially this early in the morning. But that was a small price to pay.

Halfway through the alley, she’d reached her target: a small coffee bar. Two empty garden chairs – cheap in their make-up, with a metal frame and a blueish net – stood in front of the door. One on the left, and another one hidden behind the door, the net ripped in parts and too broken to be used properly. They had been there for years. Although they’d seen better days.

Inside, she was greeted by a depressing silence. The last time she’d seen people gather here had been ages ago. Now, everyone went to the plaza at the center of town, where she was headed, too. But not before she got what she came for.

She walked up to the counter and leapt over it, not kicking the coffee cups to the ground and not hitting her shin on the wall-side counter.

She had been doing so since long before this became the lost place it is today. She’s often reminisced about the good old times, years ago, when her friends would join her here and she’d make them all a cup of coffee. Of course, none of them would touch it. She had always been the only one to drink it. She still was, even though her skill had improved by leaps and bounds.

She’d even begun drawing little designs into the foam, even if she’d be the only one to see them now. She could probably show them to the others, but then she’d have to drink it cold, or worse, do without.

She went closer caught a whiff, enjoying the aroma. They’d be fine without seeing her marvelous creations.

Maybe tomorrow. But this one, she would enjoy. It had been such a bad day already; she wouldn’t want it to become any worse.

She grabbed her favorite combination of cup and saucer and left the shop with her scalding coffee, carefully walking around the counter. Safety came first when you handled such precious wares.

Outside, she could finally enjoy a first hint of her labor. She couldn’t take a sip yet, but the smell was already spreading all around her, doing wonders to sooth her tired nerves. The flowery scenery and the scent of sugary nectar in the air combined with the herb aroma of her prized treasure; what more could life offer.

This was the perfect way to greet the day. Preferably every day.

She strolled through the alley, cup in hand, and enjoyed the moment. She didn’t have to be at the plaza at any specific time, so she could be as carefree as she wanted to. After she passed the florist, that is.

Once there, she took a deep breath to take in all the scents. Well, the pleasant ones, anyway. It was still an alley.

She lifted the cup to her lips and took the first sip. She’d waited long enough; it had the perfect temperature. She finally got to savor the taste she’d been waiting for since her unpleasant awakening this morning.

Removing the cup from her lips again, she sighed in self-satisfaction. It was divine, like always, giving her the energy to go about the rest of her day.

Over the years she had unconsciously chosen that spot many times to take her first sip and it became somewhat of a ritual. She’d even started to make the coffee a bit hotter, just to have it be the right temperature when she got there.

Now that she’d taken her first sip, she could take her sweet time, stretching every step to enjoy the peaceful atmosphere for that bit longer. She’d like to stay for a while longer, but the peacefulness would also get a bit boring after a while.

Eventually she’d reached the end of the alley. The flowery scent had been lost a while ago, but at least her coffee was still as aromatic as before, even if there wasn’t much left.

A few hundred meters down the street, she’d reach a corner. Behind it, to the left, there was the new plaza. It had been there for roughly a decade now, but it still felt like the new place to her.

She and her friends used to hang out at the bar when they were younger and when it still was a popular place. Before the Builders decided to put a big, open space in the middle of the town. She understood why. It was a nice place, she conceded that much, but it just wasn’t the same as the coffee bar and it hadn’t been the same since then, either.

While walking down the sidewalk, she’d heard and seen a handful of cars go past her, driving in a relaxed manner. They were in no hurry to reach their destination. Maybe they didn’t have one to begin with, just driving around town for the fun of it.

A car she’d been watching was just about to turn the corner when she’d also reached it. She could already make out the splashing of the fountain behind it. She couldn’t, however, make out her friends’ voices, who would be sitting right on the edge of the fountain, but the fountain itself was easily audible from her spot.

She saw them when she turned around the corner. She was surprised. Their usual gathering of 4 had one face more – or rather, a hoodie more. They had their back turned towards her, so all she could make out was the grey hoodie that covered an emaciated body.

John had his back turned, too, but he immediately swung around when Jane and Marvin welcomed her with a warm smile and joined in with a childish grimace of his own.

She’d constantly taken sips from her coffee on the way over, but now it had come to an end. The drawing in the foam was unrecognizable by this point, too. They wouldn’t be witness to her talent for at least another day.

While getting over to the fountain, she passed the trash bin she would throw her cup and the saucer in every day. She could just throw it onto the ground, like most others would, but it just didn’t sit right with her. She didn’t want to hear it shatter every day. It was her favorite cup, after all.

Right then, the new arrival turned around, too. After a moment, she heard her cup shatter on the ground. She’d missed the trash bin by a mile.

It was a man, from what she could tell. His face was covered in dark patches of skin, their shape reminiscent of clouds. Their behavior too. They seemed to slowly change shape, as if wandering beneath his skin.

He hurriedly turned back around when he saw her staring, clearly uncomfortable. She was about to apologize when John interrupted her. He put his arm around the new face in his usual exaggerated manner and introduced him as William.

He told her the rather short story of how they’d met just yesterday. A story the others had already heard.

Apparently, William had been standing in front of the Bureau last night and caught John's attention when he’d just finished his shift.

Befitting of his usual eccentric manner, he had immediately engaged him in a conversation.

William was new to town and hadn't yet been assigned a place to live in. He was supposed to spend the night at the hotel across the street from the Bureau. That is, until John invited him over to stay at his place. That also explained why he’d been up so early this morning.

While John repeated the events of last night, William was visibly nervous.

It didn’t take a genius to understand why. He was stranded in an unfamiliar town, surrounded by people he barely knew, if at all. He also didn’t seem very comfortable with all the attention he got, had likely been getting for a while now. At a closer glance, he did give off quite the loner vibes.

But all those grievances paled in comparison to their cause. He’d been as close to being Lost as you can – while being able to tell.