Maya hurried down Main Street toward Victor’s, her eyes fixed on the pavement as she dodged a group of chattering tourists. It was just another ordinary day in Willow Creek, where nothing ever changed and everyone knew each other’s business, including hers.
She realised she was out of bread that morning and had groaned. It meant leaving the warmth of her cozy home, which she really didn’t feel like doing. Still, she didn’t mind it too much. Running out of bread meant only one thing-a visit to Victor’s. And she liked Victor’s shop. It always smelled divine and Victor was like an older brother to her.
As Maya pushed open the creaky door of the bakery, the bell above it let out a tired clang, announcing her arrival. Victor stood in the corner rearranging a display of vintage kitchenware. The aroma of freshly baked bread drifted through the air, mixing with the smell of strong coffee - the familiar comfort of his shop.
“Hello, dear,” Victor said. “You’ve left your home early today. How has it been going?”
Maya smiled. As always, her eyes drifted to his leg. He had a faint limp, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. She always wondered what caused it, but never asked.
“Just here for the bread,” she said.
As Victor wrapped a fresh loaf, Maya looked around the shop. It was the same quaint setup she had known for as long as she could remember. Nothing ever changed here.
She remembered suddenly. Victor’s mother was supposed to visit this week.
As Victor passed her the bread, Maya noticed an old photograph resting near the counter, which was on the back shelf before. It showed Victor as a boy, standing beside his mother. They were both smiling.
“Speaking of my mom,” Victor said, catching her gaze, “She’ll be arriving tomorrow afternoon.”
“How long is she staying?” Maya asked. “You should take her to see the fair. I’ve always loved the soft pretzels there.”
Before Victor could respond, the bell rang again.
Another customer walked in.
He wore a red leather jacket-quite odd for Willow Creek. His presence felt loud, even though he didn’t speak right away. His blue eyes scanned the shop before settling on Victor, then briefly on Maya. A strange shiver ran through her.
“Hiya, Vic!” he said.
Victor’s face brightened immediately.
“It’s been a while,” Victor said excitedly. “Where was your last journey to? I hope Willow Creek treats you well this time.”
He glanced at Maya. “This is Alex. He travels a lot. He drops by every time he ends a trip. Likes my bread a little too much, I think.” and winked
Alex smiled. His eyes lingered on Maya slightly longer than necessary.
“Good to see you’re still baking like a pro, Vic” he said.
She felt a sense of comfort in his smile.
She swiftly picked up her bread. “I should get going,” she said. “Goodbye, Victor.”
She pushed the door open and was greeted by cold wind. She cursed herself for coming out so early, I should’ve had oatmeal instead, she thought.
Milo!
Oh no. It is his food time.
She hurried to her car. Milo’s face was pressed against the window, ears alert. When she opened the door, he didn’t wag his tail like usual. He just whined.
As she reached for the driver’s seat, a voice spoke behind her.
“Where are you headed to?”
Maya jumped.
Alex stood there.
“Home,” she said quickly. “Milo gets cranky if he misses his food. It was nice meeting you, Alex.”
She opened the car door, got in, and started the engine.
As she drove away, she glanced into the mirror. Alex was still standing there, completely still. Milo stared at him too.
Then Maya noticed Alex’s left hand.
The giant birthmark. Noticeable from her side view mirror.
Her breath caught. It was odd. Her younger brother had the same mark.
She tried to calm herself, but her thoughts kept returning to Alex. His smile, just like Ethan’s. Ethan would have looked just like Alex now. He would’ve loved travelling too.
When she got home, she fixed Milo his food and pulled some leftover pasta from the fridge, dropping it onto her own plate. She flipped through the mail absentmindedly when her phone rang.
“Hello, Granny!” she said, forcing brightness into her voice.
“How was your day?” Granny asked.
“You know, I met a man at Victor’s this morning,” Maya said. “He wore a red leather jacket and had a birthmark on his left hand.”
There was a pause.
“What kind of birthmark?” Granny asked.
“Like Ethan’s,” Maya said.
“No,” Granny said slowly. “Not like Ethan’s.”
Maya frowned. “How do you know-”
“That mark,” Granny said, coughing lightly, “is older than Ethan.”
Maya’s stomach dropped. “Older?”
“I hoped you’d never see it again,” Granny said.
“Again?”
Granny sighed. “Before Ethan was born… there was another boy.”
Maya stood abruptly. “Another brother?”
“He didn’t stay long,” Granny said. “Born with that same mark. Your mother said he felt… temporary.”
Maya’s pulse thundered. “What happened to him?”
“He vanished,” Granny said. “The same week Victor broke his leg.”
Maya froze. Victor’s limp.
“Victor tried to stop him,” Granny whispered. “They always move on. Different names. Different faces. Same mark. Same eyes. They pass through towns quietly, borrowing familiarity.”
Maya’s gaze slid to the door.
A knock sounded, followed by three slow taps. Milo growled.
“Do not let him inside,” Granny said urgently. “They can’t cross unless invited.”
Another knock. Louder.
“Maya,” Alex called warmly from the other side. “You left your bread at Victor’s.”
Her eyes drifted to the kitchen counter.
The loaf sat there.
Unopened. Full.
Granny spoke one last time. “If he looks like someone you loved, it’s because that’s how they’re remembered.”
The door handle began to turn.
And somewhere down Main Street, the bell above Victor’s shop rang again-
not from someone entering,
but from someone leaving.