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Midnight Glass
🕑 Added 2025-07-12 10:05:43 +0000 UTCThe shower hissed behind her like the tail of a snake. Carla reached for a towel, steam curling around her like smoke in a club basement. She wasn’t expecting visitors—not tonight, not in this city. The lights outside her window hadn’t blinked, but something had shifted. A pressure in the room. The sixth sense you get when you’ve spent too long surviving in places that don’t forgive hesitation.
Then she heard it.
A soft thud. Not loud—calculated. Muffled rubber sole. Someone careful, but not careful enough.
She froze, hand halfway to the towel rack.
Her apartment was supposed to be sealed—double-bolted, silent alarms, retinal scan on the door. Whoever was inside had either bought their way through the system... or was already in it.
She moved fast, silent. Years of training kicked in. A pistol—an old matte revolver with a short barrel and a history—rested in the small compartment behind the mirror. She gripped it tight, her breath low and steady, steam dripping off her black combat shirt.
She stepped into the hall.
The living room was dim. Light from the neon signs outside flickered through the blinds, cutting shadows like blades across the furniture. And there, near the balcony door—
A vase was shattered.
Ceramic pieces glimmered on the floor like frozen tears. But that wasn’t what caught her eye. No, it was the footprint. Small. Clean. Left behind on purpose. Someone wanted her to know they’d been there.
She raised the revolver slowly, sweeping the corners.
No sound. No voice.
Just the city breathing outside, and the ghost of whoever had come and gone.
She didn’t lower the gun. Not yet.
There would be more nights like this.
In her line of work, secrets didn’t stay buried. They cracked like vases.
And someone had just taken the first swing.
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