The bell above the café door had long stopped chiming by the time Maya finally untied her apron.
Sunday shifts were always brutal, but today had been relentless. A coworker had called in sick, and with the extra six hours she’d picked up, Maya had been on her feet for nearly fourteen straight. Her legs ached, her shoulders burned, and even her breath felt heavy in her chest as she stepped into the cool night air.
The sidewalks were quiet now. The streetlamps flickered overhead, casting long shadows on the pavement as Maya adjusted her worn backpack and began the long walk home. The city had its own rhythm at midnight — softer, but not silent. A few cars passed. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed. The breeze carried the faint scent of oil and old asphalt.
She walked fast.
Her sne
