As he was walking up the street towards the hotel, he noticed a faint glow of the light on the side-street. Slowing his steps down, he carefully approached to see who was ignoring the curfew so blatantly. The window, through which a dim glow was getting out, was boarded halfheartedly, leaving some spaces out. It wasn’t enough to look inside, yet when he was about to huff about someone being reckless, he noticed a familiar handwritten sign.

  Cafe Jinak.

  Was it in this exact spot, not higher up and closer to the hotel? He stepped back a little, looking around the empty street as if waiting for someone to jump in and give an explanation. Shrugging to himself, he ducked into the cafe.

  It felt like stepping through a curtain. Inside, the air was warmer, with dust hanging in the dim soft lights of the yellow lamps like it was waiting for him. Muffled jazz was playing from a vinyl record, which, when he glanced at it, wasn’t spinning.

  At the scattered tables, three people sat — one with a laptop, one with a newspaper, and one just staring in their drink. Interesting audience, for sure, but he saw people weirder at the bar “V Padu” with all the artists, fringe academics kind and those who were very much possible from Spiralá.

  He passed by the tables, glancing at the mismatched chairs, one of them made with the fourth leg deliberately shorter. As he turned towards the bar counter, he paused, staring at the wall on the right side from it. It was blue when he entered yet now it was a definite dark-red color. No one else seemed to react to this, so he decided not to either.

  Approaching the counter, he leaned over to see the menu, but found it was still non-existent.

  “Your usual?” the barista looked at him, not blinking at the time.

  He hesitated, shifting on his feet awkwardly. He was here only once, so having “usual” was maybe a little too soon, but he nodded anyway. The barista nodded back, losing all interest to him the next second.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Since staying at the counter seemed a little uncommon here, he turned away and went to find himself a table. The search ended at the same table near the window which he took the previous time. With the glass being boarded up he couldn’t see out to confirm if it would still show the street which wasn’t on the outside in reality. However, the window now worked as a mirror, and he noticed in the reflection that the barista was half a step behind his real self.

  Settling a little more comfortably on the chair, which was a little wobbly, he opened his notebook to keep himself busy while waiting for the coffee. Turning the page with the map of Vojanovy Sady, then another one of ?i?kov district, he finally found the two-pages map of Prague he started when it was a quiet night shift in the hotel and even Emil was snoring on his chair between walk-arounds.

  The coffee arrived quietly, just as before. Neat, just as during the previous visit. Steam curled up towards his face, making him breathe in lightly. Picking the cup up to take a sip, he paused when he saw a note under the saucer, again.

  Well, this was becoming consistent. He couldn’t convince himself that in this case it was two coincidences in a row. Notes like this wouldn’t appear just like that, and there was no flourish, wink or anything — he tried to think for a second that maybe the barista or some of the regulars were weird in everything included flirting, — just…it was just there.

  Setting the cup back on the saucer, he carefully took the note from under it and unfolded it. The handwriting was sharp, clean and unmistakably deliberate.

  ‘YOU SHOULD BE MORE CAREFUL. YOU ALMOST GOT SPOKEN TO, BUT THEN HE LOOKED.’

  He stared at it for a little too long, not reacting. Well, not outwardly, but his fingers curled around the cup, squeezing maybe a little too tight. He could feel the muscle in his cheek twitching softly, as if the tension was trying to find at least some way out. Something inside him knew who “he” was, even if his mind couldn’t admit it yet. Just that primal feeling deep behind the ribs, squirming unpleasantly and pulling towards the hotel. Something there.

  Folding the note, he put it into his coat pocket with a soft sigh.

  The girl at the far table, the one which sat with the laptop, began humming, and the tune was familiar. He turned his head to look in her direction, listening in to that sound. He heard it somewhere, he was sure about that — like something he heard in his dream, maybe? Or something he hummed in his dr—

  He shook his head and stood up quietly, leaving before the girl got to the second verse.