Signs Left Behind

Chapter 1 - Rain on the Glass

Isabel sat at a corner table in the dimly lit Golden Bar, her fingers wrapped around a cup of coffee that had already gone cold. Outside, the rain poured relentlessly, drumming against the windows in a steady rhythm. She stared through the glass, her gaze fixed on a small red door across the street. Her expression was tense, her body still damp from the downpour. She had stood in the rain for at least ten minutes before finally stepping inside, but even now, she could feel the cold clinging to her.

Despite its grand name, there was nothing golden in the bar. The walls were dull, the furniture worn down, and dust layered over forgotten corners. The only thing that stood out was an old, carved frame hanging on the wall, holding a faded painting of an Asian village.

Behind the counter, a young woman sat scrolling through her phone, barely paying attention to anything around her. The only source of light, aside from the dull glow of the streetlamp outside, came from a small, cheap lamp beside the register. It flickered every so often, casting eerie shadows across the room.

Isabel sat motionless, her thoughts far away. She wasn’t just lost in the rain—she was drowning in something deeper. Fear. Regret. The weight of something she wasn’t ready to face.

A loud crack of thunder snapped her back to the present, making her jump. She exhaled sharply, realizing her hands were shaking. That’s when she noticed the coffee—spilled across the table, dripping onto her lap. But she didn’t react. Instead, she brought her hands to her forehead and let out a quiet, shuddering breath. Then, without warning, tears began to fall.

She didn’t sob loudly. There was no dramatic breakdown. Just silent, exhausted crying—the kind that comes from someone who has been holding everything in for too long. The dampness of her tears mixed with the rain still clinging to her face, making them almost invisible. But inside, she felt like she was breaking apart.

She looked down at herself—her soaked black cargo pants, her thin wind jacket offering little warmth. A small shoulder bag lay across her chest, and under her chair sat a green 50-liter backpack. That was all she had. It felt like everything she owned in the world. And at that moment, she felt as though she was running—from something or someone.

Checking her watch, Isabel realized she had lost track of time. She wiped her face quickly, pulled out a five-pound note, and left it on the table. Without hesitation, she grabbed her bags and headed for the door.

Stepping outside, the rain still falling lightly, she took a deep breath and immediately looked left and right. She wanted to cross the street but her foot hesitated.

Her blue eyes widened as she stared at the red door again. Light shone through the two decorative glass panes, a warm glow against the dark street.

She stood there, frozen.

Something about that door terrified her, yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Her breathing became uneven as if she was on the edge of something irreversible.

Then, just as quickly as the moment came, she exhaled. Her shoulders sank, and her face softened into quiet surrender.

Slowly, Isabel closed her eyes, and then she turned around and walked away, never looking back.

The street remained as empty as it had been before. The bar’s dull light flickered through the window, illuminating the abandoned tables inside. The rain continued, though softer now, soaking the pavement of a lonely east-side London street in the wettest day of January.

And Isabel, like a ghost slipping through the cracks of the city, disappeared into the night, swallowed by the rain and the quiet, unseen by the world she left behind.

Keep reading! Here, the second chapter: