The stranger in the rain

By morning, the rain had washed the whole street clean.

Puddles sparkled in the sunrise, and the air smelled of wet paint, sugar, and smoke. The party had ended hours ago, but Tru Vybz still hummed faintly — lights flickering weakly as if the van itself were tired.

Zara crouched by the counter, carefully wiping down the sticky floor. Her curls were tied up in a messy bun, and her shirt clung to her from the humidity.

Mila was still half asleep in the passenger seat, one leg hanging out the door, humming softly in her dreams.

“Wake up,” Zara said, tossing her a towel. “We’ve got to clean before it gets too hot.”

Mila groaned. “Let the van clean itself, girl. I danced for my life last night.”

Zara laughed quietly. “Yeah, and you nearly electrocuted yourself doing it.”

“Worth it,” Mila mumbled, stretching with a yawn. “You should’ve seen your face when that lightning hit the streetlight. I thought you’d melt.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Zara said — though she had been. Not of the lightning, but of that strange man she thought she saw through the rain.

She hadn’t told Mila. She wasn’t sure why. It just… didn’t feel like something she should say out loud.

As she leaned over the counter, wiping the edge, her hand brushed against something small and cool.

She froze.

A vial.

It was about the size of her thumb, made of glass so smooth it felt almost unreal. Inside it, liquid glowed faintly — a pale turquoise light that pulsed slowly, like it was breathing.

Zara stared. Her name was scratched onto the metal rim. Zara K.

She blinked, heart quickening.

How—?

Before she could think, a knock hit the side of the van.

Mila shot up, nearly falling off the seat. “We open already?”

Zara peeked through the half-open hatch. A man stood outside. His clothes were soaked, his dark jacket dripping rainwater even though the storm had ended hours ago.

He looked… familiar.

“Morning,” he said. His voice was quiet, polite — but something about it made Zara’s stomach twist.

“Uh, hi,” she said cautiously. “We’re not open yet.”

“I’m not here for a drink.” He glanced toward the counter. “I’m looking for something. I lost it last night.”

Mila leaned over Zara’s shoulder, squinting. “You lost it? What is it — your phone?”

He shook his head slowly. “A vial. Small. Glass. Glows blue.”

Zara’s heart stopped.

Her fingers curled around the vial hidden behind the counter. It seemed to throb softly in her hand, as if it could feel the tension.

“Nope,” Mila said breezily. “Didn’t see anything like that. We just cleaned up bottles and cups. Maybe check the alley.”

The man’s eyes flicked between them — sharp, searching. For a second, his gaze landed directly on Zara.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly. “It’s very important.”

Zara forced a calm smile. “We’ll let you know if we find it.”

He stared at her a moment longer, then nodded. “Please do.”

He turned and walked away, his boots splashing through puddles. Zara waited until he disappeared around the corner before exhaling.

Mila frowned. “Weird guy.”

“Yeah,” Zara said faintly. Her hand trembled slightly around the vial. “Weird.”

Mila flopped back into her seat. “Probably some party junkie. Forget him. You wanna open for breakfast crowd or sleep in?”

Zara didn’t answer. She stared at the vial — its glow seemed brighter now, reflecting in her eyes. When she held it closer, faint symbols shimmered within the glass — circles and lines that rearranged themselves like constellations.

And then, for a split second, she heard it.

A whisper.

Soft. Faint.

It said her name.

Zara.

She gasped and dropped the vial. It rolled across the counter, clinking softly before stopping against her cup.

“What’s that?” Mila asked, half-asleep.

“Nothing,” Zara lied quickly, grabbing it. “Just… nothing.”

But her mind was racing.

Who was that man?

Why was her name on the vial?

And why did it speak to her?

She tucked it into her pocket and stared at the empty street, heart pounding. The rain had stopped but deep inside, Zara could feel something else beginning.

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