It was opened just a couple of days ago. Over the six years that she had been living in the neighbourhood, she had seen hundreds of businesses borning and dying, but it was the first time of a coffee shop. It really seemed a good option and had the advantage of no competence around several kilometers. But it was weird: no neighbour knew the owners, no one had seen trucks delivering supplies, neither workers changing what it was right previously a hairdresser.
And it wasn´t just about the neighbours, common walkers gossiping the street, not realizing about it, the problem was that she, living over the business and having the window of her bedroom looking at the entrance of it, hadn´t also seen any human life. No one could call her obsessed because she was used to observing the people with whom she was sharing the territory, as vocational training. She hated when people tried to describe her as a detective when that was a big word for her light aspirations to become senior gossip as soon as she could retire. The case was that in this specific situation, she might have gone further as she was spending the nights awake convinced that, at the moment that she was blinking, thousands of people were entering the business and having an amazing, and silent, party.
Of course, she had already thought about a second entrance. No, not at her neighbour´s houses, she also went inside, checking every centimeter of walls and floors, and even acting as a chief police officer (working for a while as her career was, not her position) using the very best interrogation techniques as no one had ever seen at her police station. Was hoping no one there ever knew about it or she would lose her valuable privileges as persistent lazy. Therefore, the alternative entrance must have been in the underground. Of course, she had already gone down, an inspirational route, and she said that seriously, it was a revealing experience. But in terms of the door... there were some mysterious places, walls that may have sounded hollow, and maybe it wasn´t even a decent house for a well-nourished rats family, that was all.
So she was in the mood of trying and go inside, she could just a too well-prepared coffee and lose her positive attitude of having the day off, but that was a matter of time, any of her neighbours were about to achieve the same as soon as they met because she wasn´t wearing the uniform (and if she had it on, it was her who ignore its meaning).
No welcome poster, nor price list were garnishing the main window, which was coloured grey as it could have been a thick dirt layer: sticky dust on the inside and muddy rain on the outside. But she perfectly knew that it wasn´t that, because she was used to the dust and mud effect over the windows since her mother stopped visiting her and she, as a rebel decision, decided to not cleaning any of them (apart, obviously, from the one on her bedroom, for already mentioned reasons).
It didn´t smell anything. Not freshly brewed coffee, nor that cheap air freshener that you buy for your house, and when you open it, you understand why, apart from having the low price, has been reduced too.
The reform was clear. She didn´t let anyone cut her mop of hair but always had time to have a look at those gossip magazines which no one in the area is interested in buy all of them perfectly knew, just to not been called ignorant. The walls had been covered with grey tiles, nothing compared to the previous flowered paper. Nor a miserable picture. It had two sad atypical fluorescent tubes that weren´t even flickering. Close to the window, there was a table, the only one in the room, with two white chairs and a coffee machine. The rest of the room was empty, just two doors at the back which could have been a toilet and the store, thinking logically, but she was convinced that there should have been a better use for it considering the style of the business. She was about crying and so excited to meet such extraordinary decorators.
She wanted her coffee and, as couldn´t see any cup, neither a miserable plastic glass nor a rusty plate, accepted that they were giving her the permission to drink directly from the tube. She couldn´t understand why was waiting so long to enter when it was an incredible place.
All of a sudden, the door closed wildly and the lights went off. It sounded a sweet song from the speakers that she was sure weren´t there but still inside. Her eyes got used to the dark and a wind flow shook her hair untangling it as even her father couldn´t do since she was seven years old. The excitement was driving her veins in a way that not even felt when she called her boss asking for a day off because an ant went through her wardrobe and she had a terrible night.
Across the window, she saw some quick crimes planed better than those screenplays from the best fast-paced action Hollywood film, and of course, of whom she wasn´t used to because of her tendency to pay more attention to the birds that could crap over her cap than the actual event, especially when the criminal (or the killer to be call) was telling her to do so. And she just chilled there.
Sticky hands were hooking her ankles while some patrol cars were arriving, certainly clueless without her support but maybe could save the day. She wanted to sit on a chair to enjoy the show as if she were watching that grossing American film, but the fingers that were holding her lower limbs impeded it. She wouldn´t mind sitting on the floor, after all, going to the cinema was something from a previous life, but the sticky hands didn´t even want that. She was okay like that. To be honest, she had enough with those afternoons when her ass was stuck on a bench each time a brainless fan wanted to kiss her after a clumsy invitation to go for a walk on a supposed to be romantic sunset and it was finally a long night without even shooting stars.
She felt how claws were scratching her skin under her jumper and realized that she should have also cut her nails. It was great feeling those bloody smelling drops falling from the roof to her hair. She had been a long time thinking about the option of dyeing it but was afraid of been called stylish, and, look at that, they had decided for her.
Finally, the owner appeared. She was starting to feel disappointed with such a long wait. It was a dark skeletal shadow. She couldn´t stop laughing when saw the hood when it was obvious that it was just raining over her, but was true that it was completing the serial killer style, and that she was about to clap when it showed her a finger of the right hand doing a deathly symbol.
She didn´t move even when a green smoke was covering the room making it hard to breathe. The shadow smiled nervously without been able to hide its surprise because of the fortitude of its fifth victim of the day. But it didn´t know that the victim, who seemed a terrible policewoman, was an unbeatable monster hunter that was about to start her work hours and, to be honest, was already winning.
