Amber eyes

The parking lot was mostly empty now, except for a few cars scattered here and there. But there, standing near the entrance, was a figure she didn't recognize. A tall man, his silhouette outlined by the last light of the setting sun. He wasn't looking at the hospital but directly at her, as if he could see her through the tinted glass.

Her heart skipped a beat. Something about the way he stood so still, watchful, had unnerved her. She quickly turned away, shaking her head. Get a grip; there's no way he could possibly see through the tinted glass, she thought. He's probably just waiting for someone.

It wasn't like her to get flustered over a stranger, especially not one she had only glanced at for a second. But something about him…

That man.

His eyes. They had locked onto hers with an intensity Leandra had never experienced before. Amber, almost glowing in the dim light outside, and how he had looked at her—like he knew her, like he had been waiting for her—had shaken her to her core.

It didn't make sense. She had never seen him before. Had she?

She couldn't explain it, but there had been something almost… familiar about him. As if, somehow, she had known him long before she ever laid eyes on him. But how could that be possible?

She pressed a hand to her chest, willing her heart to slow down, but the image of him lingered in her mind. He was tall, at least six foot four, with broad-shouldered and amber eyes, with a presence that seemed to demand attention. Even from across the parking lot, she could feel the energy coming off him in waves, something magnetic and… powerful. Almost as if it was trying to pull her in.

With a sigh, she shook her head. "Get it together, Leandra," she muttered under her breath. "It's just some guy."

But deep down, she knew it wasn't just that. Something had happened when their eyes met—something she couldn't explain.

It was the first time she had felt this way.

She headed out of the break room, walking down the long hallway leading to the corridor around the corner that held the punch machine not too far away from the entrance and exit for employees to clock in and out of for their shifts.

Still, as she clocked out, exited through the automated sliding doors, and headed toward her car, she couldn't shake the feeling that his eyes had followed her the whole way. Leandra entered her car, locked the doors, peeled out of the parking lot, and drove home.

The drive home was uneventful, but her mind drifted back to the man in the parking lot. It was ridiculous, really. There was no reason for her to feel unsettled, but she did. And it wasn't just him. It was everything lately, like something was just out of reach, something she should have understood but couldn't quite grasp yet.

She pulled into her driveway and sat in the car momentarily, letting the engine idle. The house was dark and quiet. Just the way she liked it after a long day at the hospital. But the stillness tonight didn't bring its usual comfort. Instead, it felt empty and it felt lonely.

With a sigh, she heaved herself up and stepped out of the car, hitting the lock button. She got to her front door and unlocked it. Then, she headed inside, flipping on the lights. The familiar surroundings of her home should have calmed her; it usually brought her peace to be in the comfort of her own home, but all they did was amplify the quiet, strange energy that had been clinging to her all evening.

As she walked through the living room, setting her handbag on the coffee table, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her reflection looked the same as it always did these past few weeks. Same dark curly hair pulled back into a loose bun, same tired eyes, same worn scrubs. But for a moment, something flickered at the edge of the glass. A shimmer, almost like a faint glimmer of light. She turned quickly, but there was nothing there. The house was empty, silent.

She stood there for a moment, her breath shallow, eyes scanning the room for any sign that something—or someone—was there.

But there was nothing.

Shaking her head, she let out a small laugh, trying to push the unease away. "You're tired, and You're overthinking everything," she muttered to herself, heading toward the bathroom.

She got undressed as she, entered the bathroom and took a hot steaming shower to try to relax away the stress and uneasiness of the day. Her body ached from the long hours on her feet, and all she wanted was to crawl into bed and forget about the strange feeling that had been nagging at her all day. She changed into her nightgown and climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up around her.

The familiar weight of the blankets wrapped around her, and for a brief moment, she felt a sense of calm. Maybe Marie was right. Perhaps all she needed was some sleep and a few days off to clear her head.

But as she lay there in the dark, the quiet of the house pressing in around her, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching. Something unseen, just out of sight, waiting.

She shifted in bed, trying to push the thought away, but it lingered in the back of her mind, refusing to be dismissed.

After a few moments, she opened her eyes again, staring up at the ceiling. The room was dim, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlight filtering through the curtains. Everything seemed normal, calm, and still, but the tension in her chest only grew.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was only a couple of minutes, she let out a shaky breath and leaned back against the pillows. Her eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion finally pulling her under, but her mind refused to quiet even as sleep claimed her.

The last image that flashed in her mind was of the man in the parking lot, his eyes fixed on her, unblinking, as though he knew something she didn't.