Memories.  It shapes the world around us, informing how we see things. Sometimes we only remember what we want to remember, and we try our best to forget the painful stuff. But the truth is always there, somewhere in the back of our mind, waiting to be remembered. A smell, a sound, or a sight can trigger a memory  in the blink of an eye, sometimes too fast to process, and we are left with an uncanny feeling. That feeling starts to feel distant and out of reach.

“REBECCA! Hello?” Victoria snaps me out of my daze, and I stumble forward spilling coffee down my dress.

“I’m sorry what were you saying!” I cry out, attempting to remove the stains.

“Something strange happened here earlier today. Damon came through the back door that he always keeps locked, and I felt a sharp cold breeze come though.” She stated nervously.

“In THIS hot weather?! That is odd..” I replied with genuine concern.

I listened to her explain the scenario in more detail, her face getting more and more animated. As she spoke I felt my mind travel backwards to when I had first started to work at Press, and the odd happenings that were starting to feel almost normal.

“We need to start writing these occurrences down.” I heard Victoria say faintly in the background. My inner thoughts starting to cloud my mind.

My thoughts are quickly interrupted by the swoosh of the door, as a customer and his dog stroll through. As predictable as clockwork Aaron and his dog Otis make there daily appearance at least once or twice a day here at Press. Almost always clad in sunglasses, possibly to mask his tiredness from a night of hosting City <3 open mic (*ahem*best open mic in the city*).

As I start to pour his usual cup a’ joe I hear a sad whimper below. I peer down to see Otis sniffing around the basement door.

“What’s wrong Otis?” I say kneeling down to pat his head. The look in his eyes caused a shiver to go up and down my spine. The poor little guy was starting to shiver too. I grabbed a dog biscuit from the counter, causing his attention to quickly divert away from the door, and his tail to start wagging. All was right in Otis world again. After they left, a spooky feeling lingered in the atmosphere.

That evening, my closing routine seemed to be going in slow motion. I cranked up the stereo system letting the “awesome mix” from the Guardians of the Galaxy Soundtrack fill the store with high energy. It was time for my dance, sing and sweep routine!

After finishing up I went to grab my bags from the basement. As I shut off the light I look down at the spot where poor Otis was whimpering. I sighed, remembering what Victoria had mentioned about starting to write out every odd happening. I take out my leather bound journal, and begin.