Gerda woke up earlier than usual, and for the first time in a long while, without that sense that something was wrong. Her sleep had been deep and heavy, but free of nightmares. Just a faint warmth on her neck, like someone had rested a hand there, but it vanished the moment she opened her eyes.

  Her body felt light; no heat, no trembling, a steady pulse. Her thoughts weren’t spiraling, they flowed. Strange, pleasant. Could it really be over?

  In the kitchen, she turned on the kettle out of habit, and only a few minutes later realized she was smiling.

  “Maybe I just got sick. Or... it was all nonsense. Hormones, stress. Or Chris, just being an idiot, messing with me because he was bored.” She smirked. “Chris... damn it, Chris! What did you do to me?”

  Her phone buzzed on the table. It was Maria. Oh no. Fifteen missed calls and twenty three messages. Mary was back from vacation, and Gerda was supposed to pick her up at five in the morning. She’d promised, she’d even offered, and of course, she forgot. Like a total idiot. Damn Chris!

  She called back right as Mary was hanging up.

  “Heeey Maryyy! I’m so sorry, I... totally spaced. You wouldn’t believe what happened yesterday!”

  “Oh my God, Gerda, you’re alive? I’ve been freaking out here! My flight got canceled, some front from the Sixth Continent blocked the transit space, so they rescheduled everything, and I just landed. What happened to you?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Well, mostly. I just... um...”

  “What?!”

  “...met a guy. We... uh... ended the night at my place.”

  “OH YOU LITTLE! Now you have to take me out for coffee and tell me everything.”

  Gerda smiled, a real, alive smile.

  “Deal. I’ll pick you up like I promised, and we’ll go grab lunch somewhere. I’ll tell you everything. Promise?”

  “Absolutely! See you in about six hours. Kisses!”

  Gerda had zero desire to leave the house or do anything responsible, like finish reviewing articles and news clips about the new law banning genetic experiments and the protests supporting it. Rumor had it the Fifth Continent was behind it, always meddling, sticking their nose where it didn’t belong. Some even said they were lobbying for a total ban, not just on humans, but animals too.

  She’d promised her boss she’d have a report and summary ready by Tuesday, but after everything Chris had said yesterday, she felt physically sick just thinking about it. Whatever. She’d deal with it tonight.

  Right now, Gerda just wanted something routine, ordinary, grounding, and what’s more grounding than cleaning? She had at least four free hours. It's more than enough to tidy up, polish, maybe even wipe the windows. But first, breakfast.

  Once she started, she got completely absorbed in the process. Surprisingly, she finished everything right on time. Perfect timing. Just the windows left, and still enough time for a shower and to get dressed. Alright, windows. Let’s start with the bedroom one.

  Gerda grabbed the spray bottle and a cloth. But as she neared the window, she stopped. There on the glass was a faint mark. A smudge. Long, uneven. Like a fingerprint dragged sideways.

  Strange.

  No one had been in her bedroom for months. And she never touched the window. Especially not like that.

  She leaned closer. The smudge caught the light, just barely, like it was still warm.

  ***

  She put on a light dress, styled her hair, added a touch more makeup, and left.

  “Maybe it was all just a dream. Or my reaction to missing Mary. Or my imagination running wild,” Gerda thought as she drove to the airport. “I’m so glad she’s finally back. Everything will feel normal again. I’ll laugh at all this later.”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  But deep down, she already knew it had all been real, and that this self-soothing wasn’t working. Still, she’d keep up the act. For now.

  Mary appeared at gate 53F6, as always, sudden, squealing, arms wide, trailing a sharp burst of jasmine perfume.

  “God, you’re alive!” She clung to Gerda. “You look like someone who either fell in love or survived a disaster.”

  “Maybe both,” Gerda muttered, giving her a weak but genuine hug.

  Mary was a short brunette, a permanent whirlwind. Everything about her moved: hands, eyes, thoughts. She spoke fast, emotionally, giving neither herself nor others time to breathe.

  “So who’s the guy? The one who made you go MIA?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Alright, I’ll write that down: ‘It’s not that simple.’ Ugh, I missed you! I have news too, let’s just go eat somewhere already. I’m starving like a wolf!”

  Gerda flinched.

  “Let’s not mention wolves today.”

  They got into the car, and when Maria saw the restaurant name pop up on the GPS, she raised an eyebrow.

  “Steak & Fish?” she said, arching her brow. “Gerda, seriously?”

  “Yeah. I just wanted something... juicy. With a crust.”

  “So first you disappear off the radar, and now you drag me to a meat place hoping I’ll forget you ditched me?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Alright then. But if you order water and a salad, I’m throwing fries at you.” Mary tried to crack a joke... total fail.

  To change the subject, Gerda turned the wheel and asked:

  “So what’s this Sixth Continent front about? Another anomaly?”

  “Yep. First they delayed the flights an hour, then again, and then outright canceled them. The airport was chaos. A million rumors.”

  “Rumors about the Sixth Continent? What’s there to even say? It’s just mountains and black fog.” Gerda gave her a sarcastic eyebrow raise.

  “Exactly. The fog.” Mary leaned in, animated. “They say it’s not natural. That it’s artificial. Some even think there’s a hidden society out there.”

  “Oh come on, Mary, don’t start. Hidden societies on the Sixth Continent? It’s uninhabited.”

  “That’s just how they like it. Hidden. Hence the fog, the magnetic storms, the radiation spikes, all to keep people out. And yet, rumors spread.”

  Gerda rolled her eyes.

  “You’ve been reading too much Sci-Fi. Keep that up and you’ll end up joining the cult of the Green Man in the Blue Mountains.”

  Mary leaned back in her seat, laughing.

  “Okay, that’s a bit much! Maybe there’s no secret civilization. But still, the anomalies. Where do they come from? Scientists still can’t explain why they’re so random. Why there.”

  Gerda didn’t answer. Her face went still, almost translucent. She felt as if she were hearing and seeing everything through water. Her awareness blurred. She wasn’t herself, not exactly.

  What if I’m an anomaly too…?

  ***

  The waiter led them to a table and offered menus with a polite smile, but Gerda gently waved his hand away.

  “I don’t need a menu. I know what I want.” Steak. Medium rare. No sides. No sauce. No salt. No pepper. Just meat. And a glass of water with lemon, please.

  The waiter gave that “sure, whatever” mouth twitch and stepped away. Mary stared, openly.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, disbelieving. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “People change,” Gerda replied calmly. “Tastes too.”

  A short silence followed. Mary lowered her eyes to the menu, pretending to study it.

  “Then I’ll have a steak too,” she said after a pause. “Well done. With vegetables. Sauce. Thanks.” She handed over the menu.

  She didn’t even glance at Gerda, as if not looking might erase the strangeness.

  When the food arrived, Gerda’s appetite was real. She ate with quiet focus, like it mattered, like her reality depended on it. The meat was tender, warm, nearly melting. Juicy slices. Steam curling. Scarlet drops staining the plate.

  Mary ate slower, stealing glances at her friend, trying to piece this new Gerda from familiar fragments.

  “So, I... met someone,” she finally said. “Not serious yet, but there’s something. He promised to visit next week. Maybe it’s real. I think I should give it a shot. What do you think?”

  Gerda smiled slightly. “Maybe. Why not? And I met a guy too. At a club. And completely forgot to pick you up.”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” Mary snorted. “So, who is this mysterious seducer?”

  “Oh, he’s... hot.” Gerda chose her words carefully. “Just... fire.”

  “Wow.” Mary laughed. “So hot your phone burned through every notification?”

  “Something like that.” Gerda leaned back in her seat. Her voice held both lightness and a truth she wouldn’t say aloud.

  The rest of lunch passed almost casually. They chatted — Mary telling funny stories from the airport, about someone losing a sneaker at security, about people fighting over coffee.

  Gerda nodded, listened, pretended to be present.

  But with every passing minute, she felt something growing inside her.

  Not fear.

  Not anxiety.

  Just the quiet realization that she had changed.

  And that she could never “just live like before.”

  Their lunch ended the way real conversations between close friends should, with a touch of tiredness, a shimmer of understanding, and a new shadow in the silence.

  And only Gerda knew just how much had been left unsaid. She laughed with Mary. Ate. Smiled.

  But somewhere, deep inside — the pulse she thought was gone, flickered.

  Once. And then again.

  But let’s be real — the clock’s ticking.

  Her body’s already past the point. Shit’s about to change. Hard.