Alice was sitting quietly at one of the outdoor tables. This was her favorite café at this time of year. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and a pleasant breeze was blowing, not too strong and not too cold. All around her stretched the frenzy of city residents rushing somewhere. An anonymous, faceless crowd, a chaotic, nameless mass moved past her, but it didn't concern her. She looked at her surroundings with a sense of superiority, a touch of contempt, but above all with amusement. Where were they all rushing to? Weak, fragile, overworked, exhausted by the eternal struggle for life. No, the struggle to function. She was the one fighting for her life every day.

  Nothing was happening. Energy circulated without major disturbances, money in her account was increasing, and Alice herself was simply aging a little more each day. Of course, she was still young, slim, well-groomed, and so on, but that wasn't the point. She looked at her own reflection in the mirror every day, yet she was starting not to recognize herself. Or was it the other way around? Maybe only now was she truly seeing herself, and not the strange brat she used to be? Over the last few months, she had noticed many changes. The most obvious was her appearance. Although she had almost not changed physically, her behavior, posture, way of moving, and the general impression she gave had shifted. She had matured in so many ways, had become a woman. Strong, independent, determined, alive. For now.

  She might have a young face and firm skin, but her eyes gave her away. The eyes of someone who had seen enough in her life to stop valuing that life even a little. Life is carrion, a disobedient whore; that was written in her gaze.

  She thought about all this, about how many aspects of everyday life had suddenly become different, yet remained so similar. It was a vast topic. She could think about it for months and it wouldn't bore her in the least. Except this new Alice didn't have that much free time. This new Alice had many responsibilities, countless plans, and enormous expectations of herself. She worked on herself every day, but that was also an endless topic, so why start it?

  The waiter brought her the coffee she had ordered, and with it a piece of cake.

  "Excuse me, but I didn't order cake," Alice said, tearing her gaze away from the crowd of pedestrians waiting at the crosswalk.

  She had to speak louder than usual to be heard over the roar of the cars. What did she even like so much about this place?

  "It's a gift from the gentleman in the white suit," the waiter replied, discreetly nodding his head toward the mentioned customer.

  Alice nodded to let him know she had seen. It was also a signal for him to leave the cake. He promptly left the table, clearly satisfied.

  The witch observed the mysterious man with curiosity. She hadn't even noticed when he had appeared. The energy surrounding him seemed completely ordinary. It betrayed no particular interest, desire, or any other strong feeling. So where did this cake come from? He was watching her too. Calmly, exactly like one watches airplane contrails in the sky, with a sort of curiosity, but not entirely. This caught her attention. She couldn't read anything, no fluctuations, no changes. This man, dressed in a white linen suit, was simply observing her like an unusual specimen of clover, and his aura told her absolutely nothing about him. That was unusual. She had never met anyone like that, so without a moment's thought, she gestured toward the seat opposite her.

  The man looked at her for a moment as if he hadn't noticed the gesture, but then he smiled slightly and rose from his seat.

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  "Good morning," he greeted Alice. "May I join you?"

  "Please, do," she replied. "Thank you for the delicious cake."

  "I didn't know if you'd like it, but as soon as I saw you, I thought you looked like an apple pie enthusiast."

  "Indeed, it's one of my favorite cakes."

  A polite exchange, a casual conversation. No change in his aura. Strange, but was it alarming? Alice didn't dwell on it. Time passed, the chaos around them grew, and she had found a calm, pleasant interlocutor. That was enough for her. At least for now.

  "Beautiful day, isn't it?" she asked.

  "Wonderful, one must admit," the man replied. "There's nothing better than the smell of exhaust fumes in the morning and the sight of people rushing forward, right?"

  "Chaos. Yes, it has its charm when you know you're not a part of it."

  "Exactly. One drinks coffee, eats cake, looks at the world around, and knows one is better than those poor wretches rushing everywhere."

  "There's nothing better than a moment of reflection," Alice echoed.

  They talked about the weather, the decline of civilization, the diseases of modernity, the problems of globalization, moral absurdities. They exchanged views on religion, sex, psychology. It was an intellectual feast for the witch. For the first time in a long while, she could speak freely without wondering whether the other person could keep up with her train of thought. Instead, she had to think about what she wanted to say and how, to keep it coherent and concise. Like a game, but on a different level than usual. It delighted her, relaxed her, yet at the same time forced her to maintain concentration.

  "We're chatting away, and time is flying like crazy," the man finally sighed. "Thank you for the conversation, but it's time for me to go."

  "A great shame," Alice replied, rising from her chair to bid her interlocutor farewell with a handshake. "Thank you again for the cake. It was delicious, though the conversation gave me much more pleasure."

  "I wish you luck in surviving," the man replied, smiling broadly.

  Those words unsettled Alice. In surviving? On the other hand, she assumed it was probably just a slip of the tongue, so she didn't pay much attention to it.

  "I hope we meet again," she said, a bit more stiffly.

  "Certainly, though I don't think it will be in this lifetime, Alice."

  Alice's heart began to pound wildly. She hadn't given him her name. She hadn't said anything directly personal about herself. How did he know? Had she failed to watch herself and mentioned something private? No, that didn't seem possible. She looked into the man's eyes, as if to make sure she hadn't misheard, but she saw only a strange, cold smile. What kind of smile was that?

  "I don't think I understood you," she whispered, feeling her voice tremble.

  "You understood me perfectly, girl. We'll meet soon after your death. Let's not waste time on unnecessary explanations. Give my regards to... wait. What do you usually call him? Ah, yes. Give my regards to Not-a-Doctor."

  Her stomach clenched painfully. Shivers ran down her spine, cold sweat breaking out across her body. She was frightened, genuinely frightened, though she had no idea why she was reacting so strongly to the situation. Maybe there was something extraordinary about this man, maybe he really knew far too much, but could he stand up to Not-a-Doctor? Probably not. So why the nerves? Not-a-Doctor is surely watching, and if he deems it necessary, he will intervene, she thought.

  At the same time, the man shook her hand, turned on his heel toward the street, walked between the outdoor tables, crossed the sidewalk, and stopped at the curb. He turned again, spread his arms as if on a stage, and bowed low to her, like an actor bowing to an audience.

  She was afraid. She was as afraid of him as she had never been of the assholes who had kidnapped her. Another moment, and she could have sworn she would wet herself from fear.

  The man straightened, looked her deep in the eyes, and then, without warning, took a step back into the street just as a huge bus approached. What followed was a blur. She stood frozen, terrified; he stepped back, the massive vehicle appeared out of nowhere, sweeping him from existence. There was a crash, the screech of sudden braking, then the screams of people around them. Everything happened too fast, as if someone had put a film on fast-forward. Then time stopped. An unnatural silence fell. Everything slowed, stretched out. Deep within her, hysteria began to brew. Suddenly, it hit her what she had seen, what she had witnessed.