Week 18, Title: This distance between us

Gia’s drinking black coffee in a cosy olive-walled café when she first sees him. The hairs at her nape stand on end inexplicably and cause her to turn. He’s wearing a trench-coat and his fedora is pulled down over his face, its wide brim shadows his mouth and chin from view. He’s here for her. The thought springs to her mind wildly, like church-bells against her ribcage. She gathers her things, swift but unhurried (she’s just being silly) and steps outside.

She hasn’t seen him move, but he’s closer. Gia rushes to her car, key in hand- poking out between fisted fingers. She starts the engine, turns to see him standing statuesque; even closer. She yanks the hand-brake. Another glance, his hat upturned now. The breath leaves her lungs. He has no face. More than that, it’s an absence, an abyss. And it’s peering into her, its darkness slides sickly against her skin, readying to tear her apart. She floors the gas.

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This is an intersection piece with ryl their entry is here: ryl.livejournal.com/970347.html