Fostering Light
By Kuya B.
Google Doc Link
- Scarlett Morgen, age 20. Light brown hair, hazel eyes, 5’7”, slender frame. Owner of Azurie’s Literary Emporium.
- Second-year student at Sulland University, pursuing an associate's in applied arts.
- Fascinated by art history.
- When she was ten years old, she murdered her sister.
At just nineteen years old, Kiki sat alone in a quiet café, her black-framed glasses reflecting the glow of her laptop screen. She scanned the bio she had written once more before snapping the device shut.
“Scarlett Morgen…” she whispered out loud, then huffed.
Kiki took a slow sip of her coffee, her icy blue eyes occasionally glancing at the entrance. She sat poised in a sleek black turtleneck and dark designer jeans, platinum blonde hair draped like silk over one shoulder. She analyzed the other customers with precise scrutiny. Still no sign of Scarlett.
The bell over the café door jingled. Kiki’s gaze lifted, then narrowed.
A girl in a baggy red hoodie shuffled inside, her gray sweatpants dragging slightly at the heels. Her caramel-brown hair was a tangled bun, and her face bore the unmistakable signs of a rushed morning: puffy eyes, blotchy cheeks, a smudge of yesterday’s eyeliner.
“Ooh, one extra-large hot chocolate, please!” she said, patting her pockets for cash.
The barista barely glanced up. “We only have one size, ma’am. What’s the name for the order?”
Scarlett recoiled. “Six dollars? Damn, that better be some bomb-ass hot chocolate.” She hesitated, then begrudgingly handed over the money. “Scarlett. Name’s Scarlett.”
At the far table, Kiki subtly turned her body, lifting her cup to shield her face. But it was no use. Too late to back out.
“You must be Kirsten.” Scarlett wiped her runny nose on her sleeve, then reached out for a handshake.
Kiki hesitated, her eyes glancing at Scarlett’s sleeve before reluctantly offering the tips of her fingers. “Call me Kiki.”
Scarlett’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit—right. Riley mentioned you prefer that.” She blushed, scratching the back of her head. “Sorry, it’s just… I always remember hearing about you in high school. Kirsten this, Kirsten that. Science awards, valedictorian speeches... I swear, it’s like I’m meeting a local celebrity.”
Kiki blinked, her expression unreadable—somewhere between disbelief and discomfort.
Scarlett leaned in, eyes catching the shimmer on Kiki’s beige and gold manicured nails. “Whoa. Your nails are flawless.”
Kiki promptly withdrew her hand. “Thank you. So anyway…”
Scarlett flopped into her seat, pulling her hoodie sleeves over her hands as Kiki continued.
“Riley said you could help with my project. I’m putting together a PowerPoint on Sulland’s metro park ecosystem—specifically the winter wildlife adaptations. I was hoping someone—”
“Hot chocolate for Charlotte!” the barista called out, cutting Kiki off.
Scarlett jumped up. “Charlotte? That’s probably supposed to be mine, right? Hang on.”
Kiki rubbed her forehead, fingers fidgeting with the edge of a napkin.
“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath as she heard Scarlett arguing with the barista about her name. “This girl is nuts.”
Moments later, Scarlett stomped back to the table, cup in hand. “Can you believe they charge six bucks for this tiny thing? And they can’t even be bothered to write my actual name. Who the hell is Charlotte?”
“At least it smells good.” Scarlett plopped down with a huff, then took a sip. Her eyes fluttered shut. “Okay, fine. It’s amazing. I’ll allow it.”
Kiki considered making an excuse to leave, but despite herself, a smirk was already fighting its way onto her lips.
“So anyway,” Scarlett said, already halfway through her drink.
“What were we talking about?” She stared into the cup, immediately distracted yet again. “Damn, seriously? Six bucks? For that price, I could buy a whole box of powdered mix and a giant bag of marshmallows.”
Kiki tried to hold back a giggle, but a crack formed in the wall she had built. She let out a small laugh and shook her head. “Funny. Even though I just met you, you really remind me of Riley. I see why she calls you her best friend.”
arlett nodded, downing the last of her drink and setting the empty cup on the table with a firm thunk. “Ah yeah. We go way back. Been friends since middle school. So you wanted me to help you with something in the park?”
Kiki raised an eyebrow and glanced to the side. “I was hoping someone could help me add some artistic flair to my slides. I’m confident in my ability to deliver concise, accurate, and digestible information, but presenting it in a visually compelling way… that’s where I struggle.” She hesitated, then added, “Of course, I’d be happy to compensate you for your time.”
Scarlett rubbed her chin. “I see, I see. I’m the opposite since I deliver info like a spastic moron, but at least I can make it look pretty.”
“So you’ll help?” Kiki asked, her frosty blue eyes lighting up.
“Aw, yeah, of course. And you don’t need to pay me anything.” Scarlett waved a hand. “I’m doing this as a favor to Riley. But…” She quickly raised her eyebrows up and down. “I won’t object to you buying me another hot chocolate.”
“Deal. And I’ll even make sure they write the correct name this time.” Kiki smirked as she opened her laptop and pulled up the presentation. “Here, feel free to click through the slides. I’ll be right back.”
Scarlett pulled the laptop closer and clicked through the deck. Her brows furrowed. Every slide was pristine—structured to a fault. Crisp white backgrounds, textbook-level vocabulary, default fonts, and painfully symmetrical bullet points. There wasn’t a drop of personality anywhere.
“What to do, what to do…” Scarlett pondered out loud, drumming her fingers on the table.
Scarlett habitually minimized the project as if was her own laptop, revealing the notepad beneath the window. She scanned over her own mini biography with furrowed brows.
When she was ten years old, she murdered her sister.
She winced, her heart sinking deep into her stomach.
Kiki suddenly returned with a fresh cup of hot chocolate and two slices of carrot cake. She set them down and slid into her seat. “Here you go, not-Charlotte.”
Scarlett pulled the project window back up with a shaking hand, then grabbed the cup. She noticed her name spelled correctly in elegant handwriting, a heart neatly drawn at the end. “Hell yeah. They got it write this time. Heh, get it?”
Kiki covered her mouth and snickered. “That’s a good one. But ‘twas I who wrote your name. I couldn’t risk that rude barista messing it up again.”
“You’re the best.” Scarlett took a sip, then dug into the cake with a pleased hum. “And thanks for the cake. I know this place isn’t cheap.”
Kiki shrugged, feigning despair. “I’m never going to financially recover from this. So please, do a good job for me.”
Scarlett smirked, brushing a crumb from her lip. “You know what? I get why Riley likes you so much.”
She spun the laptop back toward Kiki. “So, I was thinking—we should hit the metro park and take our own photos. If each slide is about a different part of the park, it makes sense to use real visuals. Frame the info with something unique, not just stock fluff.”
Kiki blinked. “Photos? I thought you’d just do it here. Now.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Scarlett leaned in, resting her chin in her palm. “I could slap in some generic assets and call it a day. But this could actually be cool. Something unique, inspiring, even.”
Kiki shrank a little in her seat, glancing toward the window. Outside, frost clung to the edges of the glass, and snow blanketed the sidewalk in uneven ridges. “It’s mid-January,” she muttered. “I do not thrive in the cold.”
Scarlett scratched her head. “Ah, me neither. My nose has been running since I left my house.” She gave a dramatic sniff. “But I was willing to suffer for the sake of making your presentation perfect.”
Kiki quirked up the corners of her mouth with lidded eyes.
Scarlett sighed, tapping at the keyboard. “No big deal, I’ll just slap on some stock photos real quick.”
Kiki groaned, pressing her fingers against her forehead. “Why does this feel like emotional blackmail?”
Scarlett gave a lopsided shrug and said nothing.
After a long pause, Kiki exhaled in defeat. “Fine. When do you want to go?”
Scarlett beamed. “Whenever. I just need to swing by my place to grab my camera.”
“So… should I meet you at the park at a certain time?” Kiki asked, opening a ride-sharing app on her phone.
“Or,” Scarlett twirled her car keys around her finger, “you could just come with me. I don’t live far. Besides, if you make me go alone, I’ll get lost and spend twenty minutes circling the wrong entrance. Trust me.”
Kiki’s thumb hovered over the screen. Something about the way Scarlett said it—bright and joking—had a forced edge, like she was trying too hard to sound casual.
Scarlett quickly noticed her expression and looked away, her heart sinking down. “Just kidding. I’ll meet you at the park in thirty minutes, alright?”
Kiki forced a polite nod. “Okay. That works for me. S-sorry.”
“It’s all good,” Scarlett said breezily, flashing a peace sign. “See ya soon.”
Kiki watched as Scarlett effortlessly devoured half a slice of carrot cake in one bite while making her way toward the door. Her casual confidence made Kiki shrink a little in her seat.
Kiki sat motionless for a few seconds, staring down at her phone. The map showed it was a ten-minute drive to the metro park. Which left her with twenty extra minutes and nothing to do but stew in awkwardness.
With a frustrated sigh, she slammed her laptop shut, gathered her things, and marched toward the exit.
Outside, cold air bit at her cheeks. Scarlett stood just beyond the café, hunched over her phone and turning in a slow circle like a lost tourist. She perked up at the sound of footsteps crunching against the frost.
Kiki gave a sheepish wave. “So I changed my mind. If you’re still willing to drive, I’d appreciate it.”
Scarlett visibly relaxed. “Oh thank God. I had no clue which side of the park we were meeting at and was way too embarrassed to go back and ask.”
“But you aren’t too embarrassed to admit that?”
Scarlett grinned, unfazed. “Come on. I’m parked over there.”
As they walked, Scarlett kept glancing over to Kiki, who was absently responding to messages on her phone. She swallowed a lump in her throat, and tightened her fists with a smile. Determination filled her chest as she assigned herself a mission. I have to make her like me. I’ll prove I’m not some crazy killer or whatever…
They climbed into Scarlett’s car—an older, cream-colored 2012 Nissan Altima with a black trash bag duct-taped over the rear passenger window. The engine coughed to life after several painfully long seconds, and the heater took even longer to stop blasting cold air.
Kiki sat stiffly, her thumbnail pressed to her bottom lip, eyes fixed on the window. The car smelled faintly of old gum wrappers and ‘New Car’ scented air freshener.
Scarlett fiddled with the radio, cycling through static and fractured pop songs before landing on something vaguely melodic.
“Hell yeah, I love this song.” She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, bobbing her head to the fuzzy rhythm.
Kiki squinted. “What song is this?”
“No clue.” Scarlett beamed. “But I’ve heard it like a million times.”
Kiki raised an eyebrow, straining to make sense of the garbled melody. “So… did you get a good deal on this car?”
Scarlett grinned. “Yeah, for sure. She’s a reliable old workhorse. The previous owners just didn’t realize what a gem they had. Once I get that window fixed—and maybe some new speakers—this’ll be a pretty sweet ride.”
Kiki leaned back, finally warming up. “I think you're right. I've been thinking about getting a car myself. Hopefully, when the time comes, I’ll be able to find a good deal too.”
“Right? You totally get it.” Scarlett perked up. “I dunno why, but I kinda half-expected you to hate riding with me.”
“Oh gosh,” Kiki said, smoothing her sweater. “What’s Riley been saying about me?”
“Uh, nothing bad. Really.” Scarlett offered an apologetic grin. She hesitated, then added, “She did mention your parents are, like, crazy rich lawyers, though.”
Kiki sighed. “They are lawyers, but I pay for most things myself. I live at home, yeah, but I’ve got a job. I’m not spoiled.”
Scarlett shot her a sideways look. “No offense, but that sounds exactly like what a spoiled rich girl would say.”
Kiki crossed her arms, feigning offense. “Okay, Riley Junior.”
Scarlett snorted. “Touché.”
They drove down the quiet city street, then Scarlett slowed down, turning onto a dirt path barely visible beneath a thin crust of snow. The Altima jostled as they rolled into the old gravel lot behind a two story wooden building.
Kiki peered out the window, her brow furrowing. “Oh, isn’t this your bookstore? Azurie’s Literary Emporium, right?”
Scarlett grinned. “That’s right! But it doubles as my home, too.”
The car creaked as they stepped out onto the gravel. Kiki followed Scarlett around to the back entrance, but as soon as they stepped inside, a wave of unease washed over her.
The interior was shrouded in thick darkness, the air heavy with the scent of old paper and something faintly musty. Stacks of dusty books leaned in the corners, and antique furniture sat abandoned under sagging white sheets.
Kiki stiffened, hugging herself. “Is this a bookstore or a haunted house?”
Scarlett scoffed. “Oh, come on. It’s just a little dark.” She flipped a switch, and the overhead fluorescent lights flickered on one by one, buzzing and popping as they cast their harsh glow.
But the light only made it worse. The shadows in the corners grew more pronounced, the outlines of draped furniture almost humanoid in shape. A thin layer of dust danced in the stale air.
Kiki tried not to stare too hard at anything.
“So… your camera?” she asked, her voice tighter than intended.
“Right.” Scarlett dashed up the stairs, footsteps rattling the old banister. Above, the ceiling groaned. Dust trickled down from the corners in thin streams, caught in the sterile wash of the buzzing lights.
Kiki stood perfectly still, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Beneath the ever-present hum of the fluorescents, there was an unsettling silence. She tried to imagine living there alone, then the sound of Scarlett’s footsteps brought her back into focus.
“Got it!” She came bounding down the stairs, camera dangling from a worn strap. “Wanna buy a book real quick before we go?”
Kiki grabbed the nearest book without looking. “How much for this?”
Scarlett smirked. “For the rich girl? Two hundred bucks.”
Kiki blinked and read the cover. Volume VII: Encyclopedia Americana, 1976. “Yeah I don't think so. Let's go before it gets dark out.”
“Okay, okay—the real price is fifty bucks,” Scarlett called after her, but Kiki was already halfway out the door. “It’s in excellent condition!”
Scarlett sighed, locked the door behind them, and jogged to catch up.
Back in the car, the heater wheezed to life as Scarlett turned onto the road again.
“Alright, tell me where to go,” she said. “We’ll hit each section in order so I don’t get confused later when I’m editing.”
Kiki pulled out her phone, zooming in on the digital map. “First stop is past the second parking lot. Just before the river.”
Scarlett followed the directions, easing the car onto a gravel shoulder. She turned off the engine and stared out the windshield. “Wow. It’s beautiful here.”
The river ahead shimmered through ice and snow, framed by branches glistening with frost. The soft sound of flowing water carried through the cold, interrupted only by the occasional creak of distant trees shifting under wind.
Scarlett lifted her camera and began adjusting the lens. Kiki watched her closely.
“What’s all that you’re doing?” she asked.
Scarlett lowered the camera, hesitating. She tilted her head slightly as she considered how to answer.
A sharp gust of wind sent a chill down Kiki’s spine. She shuddered and stuffed her hands into her pockets.
Scarlett finally spoke. “Photography stuff. I can teach you later. For now, let’s get this done so we can get out of the cold.”
Kiki gave a quick nod and rushed back into the car as Scarlett wandered a few feet further for a different angle.
They repeated the process: park, shoot, retreat. One by one, they covered the list—trails, overlooks, nesting sites, frozen wetlands. Scarlett moved with enthusiastic energy, snapping dozens of photos. Kiki stayed bundled up, shivering.
“Aaand… that’s a wrap!” Scarlett let the camera fall to her hip, exhaling dramatically.
“Thank god,” Kiki muttered, tightening her hood. “Now let’s go.”
She was halfway to the car when a snowball smacked squarely between her shoulder blades.
Kiki spun around, eyes wide. “Damn it, Scarlett! Do not throw snow at me!”
Scarlett grinned with her camera raised. Click. “Gotcha.”
Kiki groaned and stomped the rest of the way to the car.
Scarlett followed more slowly, her smile flattening when she saw the way Kiki hunched in her seat.
“Hey…” she said, sliding in and starting the engine. “Sorry about the snowball. I was just playing.”
Kiki let out a small sigh. “Please delete that photo. I probably look like a complete idiot. All angry over nothing.” She rubbed her arms for warmth. “I told you I don’t do well in the cold.”
Scarlett kept her eyes on the road. “I’ll just give you all the photos when I’m done. You can delete whichever ones you don’t like.”
Kiki exhaled, letting the tension ease from her shoulders. “Sounds fair to me.”
Scarlett gave a small, sideways glance. “And… sorry for dragging you all over the park. I thought it’d be fun. You were right, though. It’s way too cold.”
Kiki slumped in her seat, voice quiet. “I know it’s my fault we didn’t have fun. I’ve been… kind of a grump.” She paused, then added softly, “You’ve done a lot for me. I really do appreciate it, Scarlett.”
Scarlett’s cheeks warmed, and she waved a hand dismissively. “Aw, psh, naw. Don’t even mention it.”
Kiki squeezed the hem of her sweater. “So, what's next then?”
Scarlett pulled into the gravel lot behind the bookstore and shut off the engine. “Next is photo editing. I’ll plug everything into your slides. I’m thinking of overlaying a low-opacity text box in the center—so the images frame each section, but the text still pops.”
Kiki nodded. “That makes sense. I’m looking forward to it.”
They stepped out and made their way inside, Kiki trailing with a more relaxed stride. Scarlett locked the door behind them and led the way upstairs.
Each step creaked and cracked beneath Kiki’s weight. She trailed her fingers lightly along the wall as they ascended, the paint cool and slightly rough beneath her touch. At the top of the stairs, she paused—glancing left toward a shadowed kitchen, then straight ahead where a bathroom stood with a washer and dryer tucked into the hallway nook. To the right, the warm air spilling from an open doorway marked Scarlett’s bedroom.
In Scarlett’s room, the computer’s glow cast shifting light across the walls. As she sat down and immediately began uploading the photos, Kiki quietly wandered the space.
Her fingers traced along the edge of the heavy wooden desk.
“This is really nice furniture,” she said. “This desk looks even fancier than the one in my dad’s law firm.”
Scarlett sniffled, answering with her eyes still locked on the screen. “Yeah. My parents left all this fancy stuff behind when they abandoned the bookstore. I lucked out on that front.”
Kiki turned toward her, brows furrowing slightly. “Why did they abandon it? I mean, if it wasn’t working out, why not sell it?”
Scarlett’s fingers froze over the keyboard. The glow in her eyes dimmed, her expression clouding over. She sat there for a long moment, lost in thought—searching for the right answer.
Kiki noticed the change and stepped a little closer. “Hey. If that’s a sensitive subject, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it.”
Scarlett looked up with a small smile. “It’s just hard to explain. I’m guessing Riley told you about my sister?”
Kiki’s eyes widened a little. “Yeah… I mean, I’ve heard the rumors. Everyone from our high school knows at least that much about you.”
Scarlett scoffed and turned back to the computer screen. “Her name was Azurie. My parents bought this place about a year after she died and named it after her. I think running a vintage bookshop was always my mom’s dream, but they never really had their heart in it. My dad almost never set foot in here, and my mom just… half-heartedly did the bare minimum. She loved wasting a ton of money on random expensive crap, though.”
Kiki let out a small chuckle. “Sounds like you’re the one with rich parents.” She stepped behind Scarlett and lightly rested a hand on her shoulder. “So… what happened?”
Scarlett straightened a bit, her energy returning. “Well, I pretty much hard-carried this place since I was like fourteen. So when my dad got a new big shot civil engineering job upstate last year and wanted to sell it, I told him absolutely not. Took some convincing, but eventually they agreed to let me take over the shop and the payments.”
“Gosh, that seems like a huge responsibility. How do you manage to keep up with this place and your school work?” Kiki asked, gently biting her thumb.
Scarlett let out a short, humorless laugh, her eye subtly twitching. “Yeah, that’s the funny part. I don’t. I’m barely scraping by on either end. This place is one bad month away from bankruptcy, and I’m probably going to stop going to school after this year.”
Kiki winced, her gaze shifting to the computer screen as Scarlett skillfully edited each slide. “I’m guessing you want to leave school so you can focus full-time on keeping the store alive?”
Scarlett nodded. “You got it.”
Kiki lowered her eyes, chewing gently on her bottom lip. After a long pause, she said, “Interesting. That makes sense—if you’re absolutely sure you want to keep the store long-term.”
Scarlett spun in her chair, blinking in surprise. “Wait, seriously? You’re not gonna give me the ‘education is everything’ speech?”
Kiki shook her head. “Not as long as you get your associate’s degree first. That way, if you change your mind later, you’ll have a foundation to go back to school.”
Scarlett’s face lit up. Without warning, she launched forward and threw her arms around Kiki in a tight, impulsive hug.
Kiki froze, her spine stiffening. The hug caught her completely off guard. Her arms hovered in the air, unsure of what to do.
Scarlett pulled back just as quickly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry if that was weird. It’s just—you're the first person who hasn’t tried to convince me to give up on this place. I had to hug you.”
Kiki smoothed out her sweater and took a small step back. “It’s… quite alright.” She hesitated, then tilted her head. “I am curious, though. Why are you so attached to this store if your parents were ready to walk away from it? I mean… you’re into art history, right? Is there some connection I’m missing?”
Scarlett shrugged one shoulder and slowly turned to face her guest. Her blistering hazel gaze cut through Kiki like a scalpel, peering up through a tangle of messy bangs. “Are you sure you wanna know?”
Kiki instinctively stepped back, glancing over her shoulder. “Maybe not? I don’t know. Why are you being so weird about it?”
Scarlett licked her lips, flashing a devilish grin. “When I was younger, I used to play hide and seek with my sister in this place. We’d run between the shelves, giggling like idiots. Always laughing. Always smiling.” Her smile lingered. “I guess I just can’t bring myself to leave those memories behind.”
Kiki’s expression hardened. Her sharp blue eyes narrowed. “Didn’t you say your parents bought this place after Azurie died?”
Scarlett’s grin widened, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she turned back to her computer and resumed typing in silence.
Kiki stomped up to the chair and shook its backrest. “Hey! Is this supposed to be some kind of ghost story? Did Riley put you up to this?”
Scarlett giggled. “Nah, she'd never. You just seemed a little jumpy, and I couldn’t resist.”
Kiki groaned, muttering obscenities under her breath. “The only thing I hate more than the cold is being scared! Please refrain from that sort of behavior in the future, or this friendship will end immediately.”
“Ouch. Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Scarlett rubbed the back of her neck, then gestured at the monitor. “Anyway, your project’s done. Have a look.”
Kiki shot her a final glare before clicking through the presentation. Her scowl faded with each slide. “Wow… this is really well done.”
Scarlett smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Sooo… can I get a pass for spooking you? Just this once?”
Kiki ignored her, flipping to the end of the slideshow, where a folder of raw photos caught her eye. Nestled among scenic landscapes were several candid shots of herself. She frowned at first, but when she opened them her expression changed.
Scarlett crossed her arms, her smirk deepening. “Couldn’t resist snapping pics a few while you were distracted.”
Kiki analyzed the images, all traces of frustration fading. The camera had captured her soft smile, the natural light making her blue eyes shine. “These are actually… really nice.”
Scarlett closed her eyes. “Hey, you’re an easy subject to make look good. Natural sunlight really is the best lighting, you know.”
Kiki rubbed her chin, studying the images with newfound appreciation. “I usually hate candid photos of myself. But you made me look… nice.” She glanced up at Scarlett. “You know, I’m suddenly having second thoughts. Maybe you should finish school. I didn’t realize how talented you are under all that silliness.”
Scarlett made a face. “Oh god. Don’t you start. Art doesn’t pay the bills, Kiki. The shop might.” She tapped her fingers on the desk, then shrugged. “That said… I wouldn’t say no to shooting some portraits on a random Saturday for a little side cash.”
Kiki chuckled and shook her head. “Fair enough. But as a show of support… I’ll buy a book before I leave today.”
Scarlett’s eyes gleamed as she rubbed her hands together. “Now we're talkin’.”
The pair descended the loud, creaky stairs. Scarlett slid behind the cash register while Kiki wandered through the shelves, her fingers trailing along worn spines until she stopped at a section of scientific literature.
“These are the oldest copies of The Genesis of Genus I’ve ever seen,” Kiki said, pulling down two heavy volumes, their covers darkened with age and dust.
Scarlett leaned on the counter, her cheeks resting on her palms. “Oh yeah, those are some real relics. My mom overvalued them so they wouldn't sell. What are they worth to you?”
Kiki flinched, gripping the books tighter. “How should I know?”
“Well,” Scarlett said, tapping the counter, “they’re priced at two hundred bucks each, but that’s ridiculous. I’ll let you walk away with both for… one-twenty. Solid deal.”
Kiki turned the books over in her hands. Despite their age, the bindings were tight and the pages clean. “How do you even know I want these?”
Scarlett shrugged. “Aren’t you, like, a vet at the zoo or something? That’s the most important animal book of all time.”
Kiki narrowed her eyes. “First of all, no. I'm an intern in the research department. An unpaid intern, I might add. Secondly…” She pulled out her phone. “I’m looking these up before I spend that kind of money.”
Scarlett leaned backward over the register, her hair dangling as she watched Kiki upside down. “Good luck. Those are 1919 editions from the Ruggers Printing Press in Boston. Pretty sure Google’s AI assistant isn’t gonna help you there.”
Kiki looked up sharply, her gaze like ice. Scarlett felt a chill crawl across the back of her neck.
“Fine,” Kiki muttered, turning back to the screen. “These would look great on my future office bookshelf. If I ever get an office. I’ll buy them—eventually. Assuming they’re still here.”
“So… you’re not buying anything today?” Scarlett asked.
“I didn’t say that.” Kiki carefully returned the hefty volumes to the shelf, then drifted toward another section. A sleek cover caught her eye—an intricate, swirling design framing the title of a Loveforge collection.
She lifted it carefully and carried it to the cash register. “This will do.”
“Huh, I’ve never actually read a Loveforge book.” Scarlett scanned the barcode and slid the book across the counter. “Wait, didn’t you say you hate scary things?”
Kiki tilted her head thoughtfully. “Not exactly. You trying to scare me for your own amusement is different from the kind of horror Loveforge does.” She tapped the book’s cover. “This is psychological. The fear doesn’t come from things jumping out at you—it comes from what lurks beneath the surface. It gets inside your head, whispers to you, makes you question reality itself.”
Scarlett’s playful smirk faded. “Huh. Sounds… kinda cool, actually.”
“It is.” Kiki held up the book, her eyes tracing the design. “The best horror doesn’t tell you to be scared—it makes you feel it.”
Scarlett leaned forward on the counter, a knowing smile creeping back. “Sounds like that prank I pulled earlier. Maybe I’m a natural at this psychological horror thing.”
“You wish…” Kiki narrowed her eyes.
Scarlett grinned, kicking one foot up behind her as she leaned over the counter. “So what makes these books so popular anyway?”
Kiki smiled thoughtfully, her long hair cascading over one shoulder. “His monsters come from realms beyond human understanding. When people encounter them, they either get devoured—or they go insane. It’s a metaphor, really. A warning about pushing too far into knowledge we aren’t ready for.”
Scarlett propped her chin in her hands. “Right. Classic ‘forbidden wisdom’ vibes.”
Kiki ran her finger down the spine of the book, her expression turning distant. “I don’t agree with that, though.”
Scarlett simply tilted her head while waiting for an explanation.
Kiki’s smile returned. “Loveforge’s cosmic horrors are beyond anything you typically see in a horror novel, especially for his time. His monsters embody the fear of the unknown—of things that exist outside our understanding of space and time. To me, he truly believed in those ideas. And that belief helped him create some of the most iconic and influential fiction of all time.”
Scarlett arched an eyebrow. “You almost sound like you believe these monsters are real.”
Kiki giggled. “Of course not. But I do think that if such things did exist, they’d manifest in ways similar to his descriptions. The books are fiction, obviously, but I’m open to the idea that there’s something beyond the limits of what we can normally perceive.”
Scarlett studied her for a moment. “That’s… an unexpected, but respectable take.”
Before Kiki could respond, her phone buzzed. Her face lit up—then fell flat the instant she saw the screen.
She groaned, rolling her eyes as she answered. “Hello, Daddy… Yes, I’m working on my zoology project with a friend… Yes… Yes… Okay… I’ll be home in a while, alright? I’m not sure when we’ll be done.”
Scarlett tilted her head. “That was a whole lotta lies for one short call.”
Kiki tucked her phone away, gritting her teeth. “It’s been a pleasure, Scarlett. Thank you again so much for your help. You made my project just as beautiful as I could have hoped.”
Scarlett blinked. “Okay, it’s really weird to hear you say something nice while sounding totally pissed off. What’s up?”
Kiki turned slightly, gripping the book against her chest. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
Scarlett raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Kiki sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to hide anything. I just don’t feel like explaining why I’d rather hang out in a dusty bookstore with someone I barely know than go home.”
“No need to explain.” Scarlett slouched backward and began nonchalantly scrolling on her phone. “Paying customers are welcome to hang out as long as they want.”
Kiki clenched the book tighter, then forcefully exhaled through her nose. “Okay, as you noticed, I wasn’t exactly honest with my father, but that’s because I’m in no hurry to have an awkward family dinner with some icky clients of theirs. I’d rather go see if Riley will let me back into the zoo conference room so I can actually do something productive in peace.”
Scarlett gave a knowing nod with her eyes closed. “Sounds like a plan, Keeks.”
“Don't call me that.” Kiki lowered her eyebrows, her cold stare cutting into Scarlett’s heart like a knife. Her expression was sharp, her voice even sharper. “Kiki is already a nickname. I don’t need a nickname for my nickname.”
Scarlett audibly gulped. “For such a small girl, you can be pretty intimidating.”
"I'm not that small." Kiki stepped toward the front door, arms crossed as she stared out at the swirling gusts of snow. A visible shiver ran through her just from the sight.
Scarlett followed her gaze. “Yep. Looks pretty shitty out there. You’re welcome to be productive here as long as you want.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I can even make some hot tea and everything.”
Kiki pushed up her glasses. “No, I couldn’t. You’ve already done so much for me. I don’t want to make a mess here and burden you even further.”
“Hey, nah. Pshh. It’s no burden. I’m closing up anyway. Gets kinda lonely here at night.” Scarlett widened her eyes, feigning an exaggerated plea. “Plus, I’ll gladly drive you home whenever you’re ready.”
Kiki’s arms stayed crossed, her expression unreadable. “All this kindness is a little suspicious. What do you want from me?”
Scarlett’s face flushed red, and she raised her hands. “Whoa—nothing. I’m just trying to be nice. Honestly? I think it’d be fun to hang out longer.”
After a pause, Kiki exhaled and turned, drifting over to the ornate couch in the middle of the store. She dropped her bag on the coffee table and sank into the cushions. “If you insist. I’ll take that tea then.”
Scarlett grinned and hurried upstairs while Kiki unpacked her laptop.
The quiet hum of the electric kettle filled the space as she prepared two gold-trimmed teacups, dropping in dark, fragrant tea bags. Steam curled upward, catching the soft yellow light as she poured.
Downstairs, Kiki had already spread a controlled chaos of papers across the table. Her laptop glowed dimly in the cold room. She looked up as Scarlett set the cups down and gave a small, approving nod.
Scarlett took the opposite seat, legs crossed. “So what’s all this?”
Kiki sighed. “Just zoo data. Boring spreadsheets, behavioral logs, cross-referencing temperatures, schedules, diet notes. I promise you don’t want to hear about it.” She took a slow sip. “This tea is excellent, though. Thank you.”
“Anytime.” Scarlett tilted her head, eyes drifting across the papers, failing to make sense of a single one. “So, just to avoid making it weird—would you rather chat while you work or be left alone?”
Kiki looked up over her glasses, scrutinizing her. Scarlett looked pale, her dark-ringed eyes fighting to stay bright.
“You look exhausted,” Kiki noted, then returned her gaze to the screen. “But no, I don’t mind talking—as long as it’s not about my work or my studies.”
Scarlett rubbed her eyes and forced a smile. “I’m fine. And fair enough.” She leaned back. “So… why do you hate going home so much? A fancy dinner can’t be that bad, right?”
Kiki’s icy stare snapped back. “Please don’t ask about my parents, either.”
Scarlett raised her hands in surrender, but her smirk remained. “Oh, come on. You were happy to dig into all the gritty details of my family, but now that it’s your turn, you wanna build a wall?”
Kiki sighed, removing her glasses to wipe the lenses on her sleeve. “Okay, you have a point. But it’s not like I’m trying to hide anything. It’s just that they’re so unbelievably boring, I doubt you’d actually care.”
Scarlett arched an eyebrow. “Try me.”
Kiki slid her glasses back on, then stared up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “My three older brothers—who, believe it or not, are also lawyers—are joining my lawyer parents and their corporate clients for an elaborate dinner tonight. Nearly twenty people, every conversation will involve contracts, lawsuits, and corporate restructuring. And me? I’ll spend the evening at the receiving end of countless backhanded comments about how, hopefully, one day I’ll ‘grow out of playing with zoo animals’ and finally ‘join the family.’”
Scarlett nodded slowly. “Yeah… okay. I get it now.” She tapped her teacup. “Still. I think it’s interesting.”
Kiki turned to her sharply. “What’s interesting about it?”
Scarlett shuddered at the sudden intensity. “Uh, just… it’s weird to me, you know? You seem like the perfect daughter from my perspective. It's hard to imagine parents being disappointed in someone like you.”
Kiki narrowed her eyes. “Perfect daughter?”
Scarlett shrugged. “Aren’t you, though? You’re basically a prodigy—advanced classes in school, taking on all this research work, getting some super impressive science degrees. I mean, I could maybe understand being disappointed in an art student with no future, like me, but…” She let out a breathy laugh, then let her shoulders slump. “If you aren’t someone to be proud of, then I don’t know a single person who is. The world needs more than just lawyers.”
Kiki stayed quiet, sipping tea with her eyes lowered.
Scarlett cleared her throat. “Sorry. That might’ve been a bit much. I mean, I barely know you yet and—”
“No.” Kiki’s voice was soft, but certain. “It’s nice to hear that from someone.”
She stood abruptly, stepping around the table. “Remember earlier, when you hugged me for supporting you? I think I get it now.”
Scarlett blinked, caught off guard, then broke into a wide grin as she noticed Kiki standing there, hesitant, stiff, with her arms slightly open. Without hesitation, she sprang up and pulled her into a tight hug, giggling. “Hehe. I knew I picked the right dialogue options.”
Kiki huffed out a small, reluctant laugh. “Thanks.”
They pulled apart, each returning to her seat.
Kiki exhaled slowly, running a hand through her hair. “Normally, I don’t care about any of this. I know I’m on the right path. I’m so far removed from my family’s world that their expectations rarely affect me.” She hesitated. “For some reason I'm feeling particularly vulnerable today.”
Scarlett leaned her cheek against her hand. “Maybe it’s just the vibe of my bookstore. I’ve had a surprising number of deep conversations with complete strangers sitting right in this chair.” She looked past Kiki at the timeworn wall behind her. “Normally I consider myself to be a bit shy, but in this store, I’m an open book. I guess the same is true for my guests.”
Kiki smirked. “That sounds a little superstitious if you ask me.” Kiki waved her off. “But maybe you’re onto something. I think it’s you, not the bookstore, that has this effect on people. Your supposed shyness likely disappears here because it’s your comfort zone.”
The corners of Scarlett’s mouth twitched into a wobbly smile. “That kind of sounds like a compliment, so… thanks?”
“You’re free to interpret it however you’d like.” Kiki returned to her scattered papers. “But for what it’s worth, I do like the vibe here. If it’s not a bother, maybe I could visit more often after-hours. Just to work in peace.”
Scarlett blinked. “Wait—what? Really?” She recoiled slightly. “I mean, sure, I don’t mind… but why would you want to?”
Kiki took a slow breath, eyes drifting across the empty store. “It’s quiet. A little eerie, sure, but peaceful. Since I don’t have an office, this could be a good stand-in. I wouldn’t be disturbed, and I wouldn’t feel guilty hogging a café table for hours.”
She adjusted her glasses. “The library closes too early, and at home, my parents will find a reason to ‘check in’ on me.”
“What about the zoo?” Scarlett asked. “Oh wait—Riley’s gotta sneak you in after-hours, and she doesn’t work every night.”
“Exactly.” Kiki smiled and looked up into Scarlett’s eyes. “Not to mention, I enjoy your company.”
Scarlett was on the verge of blushing. “Wait, you enjoy my company as in me, or as in Azurie’s Literary Emporium?”
“I mean you, dummy.” Kiki giggled, the rare warmth in her tone softening the playful jab. “You’re a nice person. I mean, super nice. Too nice for your own good, really. But I appreciate that in a person.”
Scarlett opened her mouth, but no words came out. She swallowed. “I… uhm…” Her thoughts scrambled for something coherent. “I’ll get you another cup of tea.”
Kiki simply nodded and returned to typing.
Scarlett stood and picked up the empty cups, heading for the stairs. But as she ascended, each step felt heavier, like the air had thickened around her. Halfway up, a sharp, high-pitched rattling jolted her out of her thoughts.
She looked down—her hands were shaking. The ceramic cups clinked together in a nervous rhythm.
“Fuckin’ hell.” She whispered, gripping the cups tighter. “Calm down. Don’t fuck this up.”
She forced herself to ignore the rising fear bubbling in her stomach. With one eye squinted shut, she reached for the kettle and carefully tilted it over the cup. Her hand trembled, but she clenched her jaw and poured, willing the motion into something steady.
A few drops of scalding liquid splattered onto the counter. Then Scarlett suddenly lost her balance. The entire world seemed to tilt violently to one side, Scarlett stumbled, catching herself hard against the counter with a gasp. A sharp pain stabbed through her skull, and she slammed a fist against her ear as if trying to jar something loose. The kettle clattered from her grip, landing with a dull thud.
When she opened her eyes, the room was darker than before. The single bulb above her swung slowly from side to side, creaking in protest. The movement was unnatural—an invisible force toying with her perception.
The darkness deepened, bleeding into the edges of her vision, and a high-pitched ringing drilled into her ears.
She was on the verge of blacking out.
“Scarlett?” The voice cut through the encroaching blackness.
“Leave me alone!” Scarlett shrieked, whipping around toward the door.
Then, standing at the threshold like a lantern in a cavern, Kiki stepped forward. The sickly light of the kitchen bent around her, framing her in a soft, golden glow. Her expression was a blend of confusion and concern, but she stood steady, untouched by the strange darkness that clung to the room.
The hairs on the back of her next stood up when she looked at Scarlett, who was visibly shaking. Despite her growing trepidation, she called out with a soft, calm voice.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
Scarlett stared at her, heart hammering. Kiki appeared to have an invisible spotlight shining on her from every direction all at once. The hanging light above Scarlett's head was violently swinging from side to side, squeaking and scattering its dim, eerie light all around.
With a pounding thump in Scarlett’s chest, the ghostly figure of her sister emerged, gliding soundlessly behind Kiki, who brightened the room with every step. The translucent apparition was tilting her head from side to side. The sight was both terrifying, yet strangely comforting.
Time seemed to have slowed down, stretching thin. Her heart had gone far too long without another beat. Finally, the world began to move again. It felt like velcro being peeled off her brain.
After a second, heavy echoing thud from her heart, the ghost was gone. The room snapped back to normal. The paint on the walls was its usual pale off-white. The light fixture above hung perfectly still.
Scarlett blinked, frozen for a moment. Then, with forced levity, she laughed. “Nothing’s wrong! Just messing around.” She threw on a grin, gesturing toward the cup. “Poured you some tea.”
Kiki didn’t move. Her frown deepened as she scanned Scarlett’s face. “When was the last time you had a good night's sleep?”
Scarlett scratched her head, chuckling weakly. "Uh… what month is it again?"
“January.” Kiki’s tone was flat. She stepped forward, studying Scarlett more closely. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Scarlett swallowed, shaking her head. “I—well… I don’t sleep very often. That’s all.”
Kiki pressed a hand to Scarlett’s forehead, her touch cool against feverish skin. Scarlett flinched but didn’t pull away. Kiki’s eyes moved over her with the quiet focus of someone used to studying stress in animals—bloodshot eyes, faint tremors in the limbs, a glazed film of tears just behind the lashes.
“Scarlett,” Kiki said softly, “what’s going on with you? Did something happen I should know about?”
Scarlett paused, the question hanging heavy. “Sometimes I just get a little… mixed up. I’ve always been like this. It passes pretty quickly. Nothing serious.”
Kiki tilted her head, thoughtful. “Nothing serious, huh?” Her gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, then returned, sharper. “I think you should see a doctor about this as soon as possible.”
Scarlett let out a dry laugh and crossed her eyes in a mock-crazed expression. “I have. Apparently, I’m just nuts.”
Kiki didn’t flinch. She took Scarlett’s hand and gently tugged her toward the stairs. “Then find a better doctor. In the meantime, I’m not letting you out of my sight until you get some actual rest.”
Scarlett winced at her concern. “I’m fine, really. Besides, I wasn’t planning on sleeping until like four in the morning anyway. It’s Sunday tomorrow, which is my day off.”
“Perfect,” Kiki said, already sinking onto the couch. “I’ll keep you company.”
Scarlett frowned, watching her settle in like it was routine. Kiki was scrolling through her phone, her blonde head dipped in the soft glow of the screen.
“Hey,” Kiki said, angling the screen toward her. “Check out this video Riley posted.”
The video opened on Riley—a tall girl, in a tan security uniform, with her long black hair tousled under the edge of her cap. Behind her, a truck with a steel cage. Inside was a massive tiger, pacing relentlessly. Riley grinned into the camera, her tone cocky as ever.
“Yeah, so me and my squad just beat the shit out of some activist losers trying to steal this tiger.”
“Riley!” a voice barked offscreen. An older officer. “Watch your language!”
“Whaaa?” she scoffed. “I didn’t even say anything.” She turned toward the cage and stuck a finger through the bars.
The tiger growled low and deep. Riley shrieked, stumbling back and dropping the phone to the pavement. The video blurred, then abruptly cut off.
Scarlett smirked, rubbing her temple. “She’s gonna get herself fired.”
“She’s such an idiot,” Kiki said, half-admiring, half-weary. “I love her, though. I hope she cools it before she loses her job. The zoo wouldn’t be the same without her.”
Scarlett nodded, eyes drifting to Kiki’s screen. The feed continued—photo after photo of girls Scarlett didn’t recognize, all glossy and posed. She watched in silence for a moment too long, then finally spoke up.
“So, as someone who works at a zoo and studies animals and all that…” Scarlett tilted her head, watching Kiki carefully. “How do you feel about the whole ‘animals-in-cages’ debate?”
Kiki lowered her phone, brows lifting. “Are you asking my moral stance?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Kiki hummed, drawing out the sound as she thought. “I get asked that a lot, but I still don’t have a perfect answer. On one hand, I truly believe most animals are way more intelligent and emotionally complex than people think. So, yeah, I understand why keeping them in cages might feel cruel…”
“And on the other hand?” Scarlett prompted, noticing Kiki’s pause stretch too long.
“…On the other hand, I don’t really care about that.” Kiki looked down.
Scarlett blinked, then waited, sure there was more.
Kiki looked down, tapping her chin slowly. “Zoos let me study exotic, dangerous animals up close. Any time I want. Safely. That aligns with my goals perfectly.”
A slow, cold crawl crept up Scarlett’s spine. The room seemed darker than before, the corners heavier with shadow. “What kind of goals?”
Kiki’s head tilted, just enough to catch the curve of a small smile. “I’m interested in… learning. About animals.”
Scarlett swallowed. “Okay…?”
“I’m especially fascinated by the instinct-driven social structures of arthropods,” Kiki went on, voice oddly steady. “You could say I just… I just want to know what other people have overlooked. It’s…”
“Kiki?” Scarlett leaned forward. “Are you okay? You’re talking kinda… weird.”
Kiki huffed out a breath and scratched her chin. “Can I just be totally honest?”
Scarlett forced a smile. “Of course. Say what’s on your mind.”
Kiki nodded quickly. “Right. Okay. I’ll just say it: I don’t think humans are very special.”
Scarlett put on a crooked grin. “Uh-huh?”
“Obviously, I’m far from the first person to recognize that humans are just another type of animal,” Kiki continued, her voice gaining speed. She reached out and gripped Scarlett’s wrist, firm but not aggressive—just too eager. “But I don’t think most people grasp the sheer level of mundane insignificance that defines our existence.”
Scarlett cocked her head but stayed quiet, listening carefully.
Kiki’s eyes gleamed as she leaned in, tightening her hold just slightly. “Let me explain. People like to think we’ve achieved some grand leap—some magical threshold of sentience that separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom. But that illusion is crumbling. One study at a time, one data set at a time. Elephants recognize themselves in mirrors. Dolphins have regional dialects. Crows use tools. Chimps mourn their dead. Every boundary we’ve drawn is dissolving.”
Kiki’s energy was infectious as she spoke. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Scarlett? I feel like we’re on the brink of realizing just how trivial we are as a species, but in a very big and good way. Criminal justice, fields of psychology, psychiatry, training, education, our idea of existentialism, religion, dreams, goals, the future. Everything is changing, little by little.”
Scarlett raised an eyebrow. “You’re even crazier than I am, aren’t you…”
Kiki laughed softly and let out a slow breath. “Maybe. I did get carried away. What I mean is… once we fully accept reality—that we’re not special—we can start building social systems that actually work, ones that account for what we really are. I want to be part of that shift. I want to be right there at the front.”
Scarlett folded her arms, her gaze sharpening. “Okay. If humans are just like any other animal, then tell me this—would you be fine with putting people of different races in zoo exhibits?”
Kiki snorted through her fingers. “Scarlett, we barely know each other. Let’s not throw ourselves into that conversation yet.”
Scarlett’s expression didn’t change.
Still grinning faintly, Kiki tilted her head. “But if you think about it, we already do that. Not in cages, sure, but we display people for our entertainment all the time—through media, through institutions, through surveillance, online videos… the list goes on. It’s not that far off.”
She shifted, resting her chin on her fist. “Anyway, let me tell you what really pushed me into ethology. It was the moment I knew—without a doubt—that I had to pursue this field.”
Scarlett narrowed her eyes, gripping the hem of her shirt. “Alright. I’m listening.”
Kiki inhaled, slowly. “It was my senior year of high school. I was interning at the zoo, mostly observation work. That day, they were introducing a new adult male hippo—a bull—into an enclosure with a female and her three calves. It was supposed to be routine controlled social integration, and eventually mating.”
Kiki’s tone shifted, lower and quieter. “Everything seemed fine at first. He was interacting calmly with the mother. But then—without warning—he latched onto one of the calves by the head and started thrashing violently.”
Scarlett blinked, her fingers twitching.
Kiki’s voice became clinical. “It only took a few shakes to kill it. He flung the body and went after the next one.”
“Ooh, scary.” Scarlett perked up, covering her mouth in mock horror. “So, what, you guys put down the mean hippo?”
“No,” Kiki said flatly. “They expected a degree of aggression, but not that. They hit him with tranquilizer darts, but it was too slow. The mother fought him—biting, ramming, trying desperately to protect her young—but he killed the other two calves before the sedative kicked in.”
Scarlett went quiet, her playful mockery gone.
Kiki stared forward. “And you’re probably wondering why that—something that brutal—made me want to study animal behavior.”
“Yeah…” Scarlett answered.
Kiki’s fingers made slow, absent circles against her jeans. “Because that moment stripped away every illusion. That bull wasn’t cruel, he wasn’t calculating, he wasn’t even ‘thinking.’ He was responding to something deep—genetic programming refined by millennia of selection. In the wild, a male hippo will often kill a female’s existing offspring so she returns to estrus more quickly and gives him an opportunity to pass on his own genes. It’s all about preserving his lineage.”
Scarlett rubbed at her eyes, unsettled. “And what—you're saying we do the same thing? That people are just… what? Puppets of instinct?”
“Not exactly.” Kiki leaned back, folding her arms. “I’m saying we underestimate how much of what we do—what we are—is pre-written. Instinct isn't just hunger or fear. It can wear the mask of personality, ideology, affection, and so on. We think we’re rational, but I believe most of what we are comes from deeper, older programming we’ll never fully understand.”
Scarlett frowned, uneasy. “Okay… I think you’re losing me now.” She covered her face with one hand, forcing a smile. “Sorry. I just don’t think I agree.”
Kiki sighed dramatically, pressing her palms to her face. “Sheesh, this is exhausting. Okay, one last fun fact for you to consider—then I’ll leave it in your hands to play with. Ever heard of burying beetles?”
Scarlett shook her head. “Can’t say I have. Sorry, I’m kinda stupid.” She gave a self-conscious laugh.
Kiki waved off the comment and rested a hand gently on Scarlett’s knee. “Don’t say that. Most people haven’t heard of them. But they’re fascinating. I’ll keep it short.”
She adjusted her glasses, eyes catching the light. “First, a swarm of them finds the carcass of a small animal—bird, rodent, something like that. Then they fight to the death, until only the largest male and female remain. Once they’ve claimed the body, they bury it, strip off the fur or feathers, and coat it in a secretion that slows decomposition. All while mating.”
Scarlett raised an eyebrow, unsure where the story was going.
Kiki glanced up over her glasses, studying her. “And here’s the part I love. These beetles are constantly making calculations. The female lays her eggs inside the carcass—but only a precise number. That dead animal is the only food source for their larvae. Too many eggs, and some starve—or pupate early into smaller, weaker beetles that won’t survive the next deathmatch. Too few, and she’s wasted reproductive potential.”
Scarlett gave a short, shaky laugh. “That’s… honestly kind of cool.”
Kiki smiled. “Very cool.” She pushed her glasses up again. “So, she lays the ideal number. Plus a few extras. And when the larvae hatch?”
She paused. Her voice dropped. “They eat the surplus siblings to balance the numbers. It’s called filial cannibalism.”
Kiki’s tone was matter-of-fact. “To recap: these beetles kill off rivals, form a strategic mating pair, preserve their food source with chemical precision, lay a mathematically optimized number of eggs, and then—when necessary—devour their own young to maximize the growth of their colony. One hundred percent pure, unquestionable instinct. Right?”
Scarlett glanced down, suddenly put on the spot. “Uh, right. Right?”
Kiki smiled, sharp and serene. Then gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Anyway, that’s enough out of me. Think about it however you want. I’ll just keep doing what I do best—studying.”
Scarlett crossed her arms, a smirk forming. “I thought I was supposed to be the weird one.”
Kiki tilted her head, playful. “You’re not?”
“I am weird, I guess. But it turns out you’re pretty weird too.” Scarlett’s mind raced in circles. She hesitated, then asked, “Does Riley know all this stuff about your… weird beliefs?”
“Not really. I tried having a very surface-level version of this conversation with her once, but she couldn’t even begin to grasp what I was saying.” Kiki sat back, folding her hands. “It’s probably for the best. Honestly, I have no idea why I was willing to say all that to you. I usually keep my thoughts to myself.”
Scarlett tapped her temple. “It’s the bookstore vibes. I tried to tell you.”
Kiki looked around the dark, quiet room. The mixture of crushing silence hiding beneath monotonous buzzing from the overhead lights created an unnerving atmosphere. “Maybe you’re right about that after all. This place should be studied.”
“Nope, I only welcome friends and customers here.” Scarlett crossed her arms with a quick nod. “Keeps the vibe right.”
“You know what would really help the vibe? How about some music?” Kiki put her hands on her knees and sat upright. “Anyway, let me ask you something, beneath the magic of the spooky bookstore, then.”
“Go ahead.” Scarlett swallowed, throat suddenly dry.
“Explain to me exactly what was going on upstairs earlier. You seemed perfectly normal moments before you went to pour tea, then a few minutes later I found you behaving very strangely. Why? That was very abrupt, if you ask me.” Kiki stared deep into Scarlett’s eyes as she asked, her blistering sharp gaze leaving no room for deception.
Scarlett rolled her head back with a wheezy, exaggerated laugh. “Oh you, come on. I already told you—it’s nothing.”
“Don’t bullshit me.” Kiki’s eyes narrowed with razor-sharp clarity. “There’s more going on than sleep deprivation. Just tell me.”
Scarlett shrank slightly, shoulders curling inward. “I don’t know, man. What do you want me to say? I’m a psychotic dipshit who gets panic attacks and sees things sometimes. PTSD or something, I guess. Who knows.”
Kiki’s hard expression softened. “Right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push so hard. It’s just that…”
“It’s okay.” Scarlett steadied her breath. “I’m just surprised how scary you can be.”
Kiki’s eyes widened. “Oh no—I didn’t mean to be. I’m really not like that. I just thought maybe… you weren’t being honest, and I got carried away.”
“Shh, it’s cool, Kiki.” Scarlett rubbed the flustered girl’s shoulders. “I know I was acting like a freak. I do it all the time. So anyway, how’s that work coming along.”
Kiki stayed quiet for a few seconds, until a soft smile returned to her face. “Pretty much done. I just needed to update some sections. Most of it was finished before I got here.”
“Well hey, that’s good news.” Scarlett casually stacked a few loose papers on the table. After a pause, she glanced sideways. “So… are you, like, planning to sleep here?”
Kiki’s pale cheeks flushed pink. “No! I was just gonna hang out till you fell asleep, then call an Uber.”
“Oh, okay.” Scarlett looked away. “No pressure. I mean, if you did want to crash here, the couch is comfy. You could take my bed.”
“No, what? Absolutely not.” Kiki crossed her arms. “I just met you earlier today. That’s out of the question.”
“Hehe, fair.” Scarlett stood with a light stretch. “Wanna come upstairs and watch some dumb videos?”
“Uh—sure?” Kiki blinked, caught off guard.
“Come on.” Scarlett took her hand and led her up the stairs.
They settled at the foot of the bed. Scarlett grabbed her wireless mouse and pulled up a playlist. Kiki, still a little shell-shocked by the day’s events, found herself smiling as they watched clip after clip. Somewhere between laughter and inside jokes, the tension dissolved.
After a particularly ridiculous video, Kiki sighed contentedly. “Hey, Scarlett. This was fun. I honestly can’t remember the last time I just… enjoyed someone’s company like this.”
She scooted a little closer, watching as Scarlett shoved chips into her mouth with a grin. “You’re really easy to talk to.”
Scarlett beamed with pride, swallowing her snack. “Wow, so nice! And here I thought you were getting sick of me already.”
“Not quite yet.” Kiki smirked, then stood and brushed off her pants. “I should head home. My dad’s been texting nonstop even though I told him I was busy.”
Scarlett flopped backward onto the bed with a groan. “Aw, but didn’t you say you’d stay until I fell asleep? I’m not even tired yet. It’s barely midnight.”
“Yeah, well—I’ve been up since six. And I changed my mind.” Kiki leaned against the desk with a tired breath. “Besides, you seem fine now.”
“Rude.” Scarlett closed her eyes, stretching her arms above her head.
“I do have a favor, though.” Kiki hesitated, then continued. “I hope you don’t mind if I come back tomorrow night. I don’t have much work left, but… I’d like to spend more time here.”
Scarlett cracked one eye open and smiled. “You’re welcome anytime.” She sat up a bit. “Oh—don’t forget that Loveforge book on your way out.”
Kiki nodded and reached for her things—when her hand brushed against a small spiral notebook resting on the desk. Curious, she picked it up and read the title: Drops of Scarlett.
She giggled. “Drops of Scarlett? What is this?”
Scarlett shot upright, snatching the notebook from her hands with lightning speed. “That’s my special book. Please don’t laugh at me.”
Kiki snorted, covering her mouth. “Special book?” Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “Now I really need to see.”
Scarlett’s cheeks flushed deep red. “Hell no! You’re already laughing and you haven’t even read it yet!”
Kiki steeled herself, biting back her grin. “Alright, alright—I’m sorry. I won’t laugh. I mean it.” She leaned in slightly. “So… can I read it?”
Scarlett held the book close, arms folded. “I would’ve let you, if you hadn’t started giggling the second you picked it up. I’m not shy, I just don’t like being teased. Just don’t make fun of me about it, and you can read it. I’d actually like to hear your opinion.”
Kiki tilted her head. “Fair. No teasing. I promise.” She held out her hand.
After a long pause, Scarlett slowly extended the notebook, and Kiki took it gently, her fingers trailing over the worn cover.
Scarlett turned away, her voice quiet and hesitant. “They’re just poems. I’ve been adding to it since I was fourteen. Most of the early ones are awful, so skip ahead, alright?”
Kiki, of course, opened to page one.
The first poem sprawled across the page in dark, scratchy handwriting, almost like something from a horror film title. “Daydreamer. Rumors spread around and around like nobody cared. They all say there must be something wrong.”
“Okay, okay!” Scarlett lunged forward as Kiki pulled the book away with a grin, retreating just out of reach. “I didn’t say you could read it out loud! And you were supposed to skip ahead!”
Kiki backed up against the wall, holding the book out of Scarlett’s reach and pressing a foot against her stomach to keep her at bay.
“They don’t realize she is happy up there,” Kiki continued in a dramatic whisper. “On a hill alone, singing her song.”
“Oh my god, it’s so cringy. I’m so embarrassed!” Scarlett collapsed back onto the bed, covering her face. “Please stop reading it out loud.”
Kiki peeked over the top of the book, amusement fading into something gentler. “It’s not that bad. But okay, okay—I’ll skip ahead. Got anything in here you’re actually proud of?”
“I don’t know. No?” Scarlett dragged her hands down her face. “I didn’t expect to feel this shitty about it. Just—just skip ahead and read silently. The first half is awful. Start at the end.”
Kiki flipped to the latter half of the book. Her eyes paused on a small poem, framed by delicate black flower sketches. Each line was written in alternating red and blue ink.
My deep blue sky
I only look down
But it's there, reflected bright
Not only my frown
But the sky, in a mirror’s light
I want to smile
My own face staring back at me
Still in denial
I wonder why they let me free
I drop a small stone
Without thinking, the glass is cracked
But now I’m alone
The light in the mirror, turned black
I can’t see the sky
My reckless choice has cost the sun
I try and I try
My mistake cannot be undone
Please just turn around
The deep blue sky’s behind my head
But alas, as I’ve always said
I only look down
— I miss you
Kiki read it twice—once quickly, then once like she was tracing the spaces between each word. Her fingers rested gently on the edge of the page.
She looked over at Scarlett, still hiding on the bed.
“Wow,” Kiki said softly. “You were right. The later ones are really something.”
Scarlett peeked through her fingers. “Which one did you read?”
Kiki pulled off her glasses, casually wiping at the corner of her eye. “Just skimming.”
Scarlett sat up and squinted. “Wait… are you crying?”
“Pfft. No way. You’re not that good.” Kiki gave an unconvincing laugh. “I’m just… tired.”
Scarlett’s embarrassment dissolved in a flash. She stood and wrapped Kiki in a warm hug. “Aha! I got you. My art has officially moved someone to tears. I’m writing you a poem next, whether you like it or not.”
Kiki blinked in surprise, then smiled and leaned into the hug. “That would be… interesting. No one’s ever written one for me before.”
“Then that’s just one more perk of being friends with an artsy-fartsy nerd like me.” Scarlett pulled back, resting her hands on Kiki’s shoulders. “So, want me to drive you home? Just because I’m a night owl doesn’t mean a good girl like you should be up so late.”
Kiki pulled out her phone, weighing her options. “Actually, I think I’ll just call that Uber now. You’ve already done too much, so I insist this time. I’ll come back tomorrow after work and take advantage of your generosity again.”
“Deal.” Scarlett grinned. “I’ll invite Riley too.”
Kiki nodded. “Good idea. I’d like to observe how you two interact.”
Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “That’s… a weird way to put it, but alright. Should be fun.”
With a wink, Kiki grabbed her things and headed downstairs. Scarlett trailed behind and saw her out the front door.
“Try to get some sleep,” Kiki called, tightening her fluffy jacket as the cold wind bit her cheeks.
“You too. Get home safe!” Scarlett called, waving frantically as Kiki climbed into the backseat of her ride. The black car disappeared down the street into the dark night.
She closed the door and turned back to the dim, quiet bookstore. But this time, the silence felt different, somehow lighter. A trace of Kiki’s presence still lingered—like the orange glowing embers of a flame not quite extinguished.
Drops of Scarlett
Fostering Light
Kiki sat in her luxurious leather office chair, the only illumination coming from twin computer monitors that cast a pale blue glow across her dark sweater. Reflections shimmered in her glasses as she typed. She worked methodically, shifting papers from one stack to another, her fingers tapping away at the keyboard. It was the same tedious office work as always.
Then, something caught her eye—a faint glint from a photo frame.
She paused, her gaze lingering on the picture as she picked it up. It was a candid photo Scarlett had taken: Kiki mid-laugh, head tilted slightly, soft winter light painting her face. A strange warmth crept into her chest.
Kiki unfastened the back of the frame to remove the image. On the reverse, a short poem had been neatly written:
I love how you shine.
You’re such a beautiful light.
Guide me through the night.
Kiki leaned back in her chair, a smirk tugging at her lips. After a moment, she reached for her phone. A few taps later, the call connected. Scarlett answered almost instantly, her voice bright and familiar.
Kiki spun lazily in her chair, twirling a lock of hair around her fingers. “Hey, Scarlett. Mind if I come over and pretend your store’s my office again? You know, like the good old days… Yeah? Sounds great. I’ll head over soon.”
She rolled away from her desk, then paused, scratching her head.
“Hmm, why?” Kiki searched for a reason—something logical, something casual. But instead, she spoke the simple truth.
“I miss you.”