Happily skipping down the darkened corridor to her dressing room, I feel something fall in my stomach. Something doesn’t feel right but I can’t quite place it. Behavior. Personality. Environment. I repeat like it mantra in my head as I slow my skipping to a cautious walk. The lights weren’t off in here when I left earlier. Why would mom turn the lights off in her room if she was still in there?

Something screamed at me to not open the door. Not to go inside. I needed to tell my mom though, that way she could make some money. I push the door open and immediately the smell of metal hits my nose.

 “Mommy?” I call out, but there’s no response. I can feel a puddle of something on the ground, but I can’t see. My stubby little arms reach for the light switch and I feel something warm on my hands.

My heart rate picks up but I still turn the light on even though the voice in my head is telling me to run away and not look. The lights roar to life, illuminating the room that’s now painted in red. My mother is nowhere to be found. I can’t see her anywhere. I can’t hear anything.

The only sound that could be heard was the sound of me screaming.

10 years later

I sigh internally as I wait for the man in front of me to order. He’s going to get it black, no sugar even though it will be way too bitter for him. He needs to impress the girl he’s with though. Show her that he’s a ‘man.’ The fake smile plastered on my face as the man and the girl hanging off his arm step forward.

“Black coffee. No sugar,”  I punch it into the register, waiting for the girl to order her overly-sweet drink because she needs to appear cute and vulnerable, “I’ll try that new unicorn drink!” I try not to outwardly scowl and punch it in, giving them the total. He’ll pay with his black card, I analyze, he wants to show her that he has money.

Seconds later, a black card emerges from the man's wallet and he swipes it. I hand them the receipt and they move on down the counter to wait for their drinks that neither of them are really going to enjoy. I’ve been able to read people like this since I could remember.

My mother had taught me how. Behavior. Personality. Environment. It was a natural instinct for me now. I’m sure if people knew that I was reading them, able to predict their next move or whatever the next words out of their mouth would be—it wouldn’t be considered normal.

The next customer steps forward and this time I can’t keep the surprise off my face. He’s tall, with black, wavy hair swept back on his forehead. He’s wearing a button up shirt that I know is probably worth more than this little coffee house. The large watch on his wrist only confirms my observation.

This is the last place someone like him would come. He would most likely opt for the famous brand chain down the street. A smirk was on his face—he wasn’t even trying to hide it,  “I’ll take a donut,” He said. I felt my cheeks burn just slightly. His voice was velvety smooth. I barely heard him as I punched in the donut on the register. Stuck-up-frat-boy, that’s my name for him, did not strike me as someone who eats a donut.

“Anything to drink with that?” I asked in the most customer service voice I have. He hums and nods, dark, almond-shaped eyes meeting my honey brown ones. One of the many features I’ve inherited from my mother, “What would you like?” I asked, confused. He hadn’t told me anything, though I could already guess what he wanted.

“Why don’t you tell me?” There was amusement in his voice, a hint of teasing.

“You want me to tell you what drink to get?” He shook his head, a dashing smile spreading over his face.

“I want you to tell me what drink I want,” I stiffened a little, very confused but shrugged and took a guess anyway.

“Someone would think you’d want something plain, like coffee, but you’re a little too—eccentric—for that,” He snorted in amusement but didn’t say anything. “Something like a frap is too sweet for you,” If I was spot on, I didn’t know. He hadn’t said anything, just watching me carefully as if he was analyzing me.

“Coffee with just a hint of sugar,” I settled on, “A splash of milk.” He chuckled and pulled out his wallet to pay. 

“Did I get it right?” I asked as I handed him his change. He only smirked back at me, “What fun would it be if I told you that?” He placed something in my hand and walked away to wait for his food and drink.

I was still confused but shook it off and finished out the rest of my shift. I hadn’t even looked at the card, just slipping it into my pocket. Once home, I had an hour before the house would be swarming with family members. Collapsing onto the bed, I slipped the card out of my pocket to read it over.

My eyes widened and I jumped up, almost dropping the card in the process.

Central Intelligence Agency.

CIA.