[4] The Day I Agreed to Something Stupid

The sensation of falling stopped.

Not gradually. Just stopped. Like someone hit pause on gravity itself.

Rome floated.

That's the only word for it. His consciousness hung suspended in the air above Java Junction like a balloon someone forgot to tie down. No body. No weight. Just awareness drifting through space that felt both familiar and completely alien.

The coffee shop spread out below him in colors too bright to be real. The warm browns of the wooden tables cranked up to amber. The cream walls glowed ivory. Even the stainless steel espresso machine gleamed with metallic perfection that looked CGI-rendered.

His perspective drifted lower without his input, pulled toward a corner booth. He could see the back of someone's head. Dark hair catching the overhead lights.

Oh.

Oh no.

That was him.

Rome's stomach, wherever it currently existed, dropped into his nonexistent feet.

He was watching himself. Past tense him. Memory him. The him who had no idea his entire world was about to detonate in his face.

He tried to look away. Couldn't. His perspective locked onto the scene like a camera on rails, following a predetermined path.

The booth came into sharper focus. Jake sat across from past-Rome, leaning forward, his leg bouncing with enough energy to power a small city. That nervous habit he'd had since freshman year.

Three girls occupied the remaining seats.

The one on the left commanded immediate attention. Chloe. Her spine formed a perfect vertical line, shoulders back, chin elevated just enough to broadcast authority. Chestnut hair pulled into a ponytail. Wire-rimmed glasses magnifying gray eyes that moved across her laptop screen.

Madison sprawled beside her, the embodiment of could not give less of a fuck. Dark hair with purple highlights fell across her face. She wore fingerless gloves. In Valoria. During the summer.

The third girl, Bree, occupied the space between presence and absence. Small frame tucked into the corner like she was trying to take up minimal space. Blonde hair in loose waves. Her eyes stayed unfocused, staring past the physical world. Every few seconds she'd shiver.

Background patrons had features blurred into flesh-colored smudges. The barista's face looked run through Photoshop's maximum blur filter.

The espresso machine's hum pulsed with rhythmic regularity. Thump-hum. Thump-hum.

Jake's mouth moved. Sound arrived slightly out of sync.

"So you're saying this place is actually haunted? Like for-real haunted?"

Chloe's fingers stopped typing. She rotated the laptop.

"The electromagnetic field readings are off the charts. Fluctuations of forty to sixty milligauss in areas with zero electrical infrastructure."

Madison didn't look up. "Could be geological. Underground water, mineral deposits."

"Could be," Chloe's tone suggested otherwise. "Except the temperature variations don't correlate with natural phenomenon. We're seeing localized drops of fifteen to twenty degrees in tiny spaces."

Bree shivered. "The veil is thin there. I can feel it from here. All that pain. All that fear. It's soaked into the foundations."

Madison paused. "You're feeling it from six miles away."

"Spiritual sensitivity doesn't respect distance. Trauma echoes."

Oh my god, Rome thought. She actually believes this shit.

Except the thought carried new weight. Because he was currently experiencing a metaphysical flashback induced by temporal ink while a woman with magic eyes watched his unconscious body.

The door chimed.

Past-Rome walked in.

He watched himself scan the café, assessing exits and potential problems before choosing a seat. Old habit from too many foster homes.

Jake's face lit up. He half-stood, waving enthusiastically.

"Rome! Over here!"

Past-Rome's expression cycled through surprise, resignation, and exhaustion. He slid into the booth.

"This better be good. I've got a shift in four hours."

"It's better than good. It's legendary." Jake gestured to the girls. "Rome, meet the Spectral Seekers. Chloe, team leader. Madison, tech specialist. Bree, sensitive."

Chloe extended a hand. Her grip looked firm enough to crack walnuts.

"Jake's told us about your interest in unexplained phenomena."

"Has he now."

"Don't give me that. You're always watching ghost hunting shows. You own three EMF readers."

"I own one EMF reader for checking electrical wiring at job sites. The others were broken when I found them."

"You didn't fix them though," Jake leaned in. "Because maybe part of you wanted to believe."

Chloe rotated her laptop. A satellite image showed abandoned industrial buildings forming a riverside compound.

"Blackwood Meatpacking Plant. Operational from 1947 to 1983. Seventeen confirmed deaths on-site. The final incident involved workers trapped in a freezer for fourteen hours."

Madison pulled up newspaper clippings showing covered gurneys.

"Official closure was for health violations. They shut down overnight. Just locked the gates and walked away."

Bree wrapped her arms around herself. "They left the dead behind. Not the bodies. The impressions. Residual energy from violent death accumulates. Becomes something aware."

Past-Rome leaned forward. His obsidian necklace swung free.

Bree stopped shivering. "Oh. That's beautiful. What is it?"

Rome watched himself tuck it back under his shirt. "Nothing. Just something I've always had."

Bree's gaze followed it. "It feels protective. Like it's keeping something out. Or maybe in. It suits you."

Chloe cleared her throat. "The spiritual activity has been escalating. Three teams have attempted investigations. All abandoned their equipment and fled."

"Fled from what?"

"Overwhelming dread. Physical nausea. One investigator reported feeling hands around his throat while completely alone."

Jake's leg bounced faster. "So we go in. Document everything. Maybe finally get proof of something beyond the material world."

Rome watched himself run a hand through his hair – the universal gesture of impending stupidity.

The café's background hum shifted lower.

"Fine," Past-Rome conceded. "You're buying me breakfast for a month though."

They stood and made plans to meet after sunset when spiritual energy would be strongest.

The scene began to deteriorate. Background patrons dissolved into static. Walls faded to gray. Sound became muffled.

Rome's past self turned toward the exit. The window caught his reflection.

For one moment, the reflection's eyes glowed violet.

Not the warm hazel he'd always seen in mirrors. Pure electric purple. The same shade as Amelia's technique. The same color as the energy he didn't know he possessed.

Then the café exploded into fragments of corrupted memory. Color drained away. Sound collapsed into white noise. His perspective tumbled through darkness, suspended in the static-filled void between memories, waiting for the inevitable crash landing into whatever hell waited in that warehouse.