One thing most people overlook in life is that preparation is everything. It’s all about planning. Getting every little detail right. That’s what makes the difference. If you plan ahead, you succeed. It’s that simple. Whether you’re tackling a major project or just getting through your daily routine, being prepared sets you apart.
"A medium vanilla almond milk iced coffee," she mutters, her gaze fixed on her phone. How rude, I think. It’s a clear reflection of someone's character, how they treat those serving them. It reveals the distance between her world and mine. She taps her phone against the card reader without sparing a glance, as if the barista doesn't even exist. I step closer, watching her tap the payment through, her attention already drifting back to her emails.
"Name for the order?" the barista asks, lifting her visor to adjust it, the edge slowly sliding down her forehead.
"Clara," she replies, never lifting her eyes from the screen.
I wonder why she’s lying. Every time I’ve seen her here this month, a new name. Sometimes she’s Natalie. Sometimes she’s Fiona. Never Emma. Is it a game? A way to slip out of her own skin for a moment?
I order next, “Black coffee. Medium.” Simple. No time for frills.
I stand behind her again in the pick-up line. She doesn’t react when they call out “Clara.” Why would she? That’s not her name. Her attention is glued to her screen, her brow knitted with focus. She only snaps out of her trance when they announce her drink, a long moment later.
"Grace," they call as she sips her drink. Our shoulders brush as I reach for my coffee. I can’t tell if it was accidental, but it feels intentional. Her touch sends a surprising jolt through me.
"Sorry," I murmur, though she doesn’t acknowledge it. Or me. She never does. She never has.
She spins around and heads toward the door, disappearing into the chaotic street outside. I follow her, a mere shadow in a sea of distracted people. With the constant hum of a city like this, it’s easy to lose yourself among the crowd. So many heads buried in screens, unaware of what’s right in front of them.
It’s a miracle more people aren’t hit by cars here. I’ve seen it time and time again, pedestrians flirting with danger, completely oblivious to the traffic around them. Lost in their phones. Careless.
She’s heading to work, just a few blocks away, a luxury in a city like New York. Being so close to the office is something not many can boast about. Sometimes, she works from home, though never on Mondays. Mondays are sacred, the day for starting fresh with new tasks and problems to solve.
Later, she’ll visit the local gourmet market. Her routine never wavers. She’ll walk out with just one paper bag of groceries, probably costing more than my entire week’s shopping. Her choices are always perfectly curated: fresh fish, exotic greens, and ripe berries. She cooks dinner for him on Monday nights. I’ve seen it all..his preferred items stacking up on the conveyor belt at checkout. Week after week. I wonder if she genuinely likes the meals she prepares, or if she’s simply catering to his tastes. Maybe there’s even a small gift tucked away in that bag, a delicate box or trinket, her face lighting up as she hands it to him. She must be so excited, every moment reinforcing the life they’re building together, a life I have no place in.
I grip my bag tighter, the familiar weight of the gun inside bringing a strange sense of calm.
It’s unfortunate, really. She’ll never know what it feels like to be a mother. I almost pity her.
My gaze shifts away from her, and I turn, slipping into the crowd as I head toward the subway. It’s time to get ready. Time to prepare. I’ll be waiting for her at her place. It’s not the first time I’ve been there under a different guise, when I was with him. But today, my visit won’t be as innocent. I’ll be there, hidden in the shadows, waiting for her return. Preparation is key, after all. Always.
