[center][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/5gWtkdgdyt5bZt9i6n3Kqd?si=37957e6e11974ccb][img]https://i.postimg.cc/05m61xNT/Elena-Castellano-removebg-preview-1.png[/img][/url][/center][right][sub]Interactions: Open[/sub][/right][hr]
[indent][color=#ffffff]Elena stepped into the warmth of The Cozy Bakery, brushing a stray curl out of her face as she absorbed the bustling, inviting atmosphere. Nestled on Main Street, the bakery was filled with the irresistible scents of freshly baked bread and delicate pastries—a blend of butter, sugar, and something more elusive, perhaps a hint of cardamom or even red bean. The comforting warmth and smells wrapped around her like a soft blanket, banishing the sharp November chill she’d left behind at the door.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]The bakery itself was relatively new but had quickly become a staple on the North Side, known for its unique fusion of French and Chinese baked goods. The owner, a culinary experimenter by reputation, was a local legend, drawing in patrons who eagerly awaited her weekly special. This week’s offering, scribbled in neat chalk script on a board by the counter, read [i]Matcha-Filled Croissants[/i], and Elena made a mental note to try one before leaving.  She might even splurge on an extra one for her mother, a small token of indulgence she rarely allowed herself.[/color]

[i][color=#f88379]If I can afford it,[/color][/i][color=#ffffff] the young woman thought with a rueful smile, the familiar pang of frugality tugging at her. Money was tight these days, and luxuries like bakery treats didn’t often make it into her budget. Still, standing in the warm, fragrant air, surrounded by displays of golden pastries and neatly lined rows of bread, it was hard not to entertain the idea of a small indulgence. After all, the week was young, and who knew what unexpected challenges might be waiting for her around the corner?[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Her  gaze swept over the bakery, taking in the cozy light that streamed through the large, arched windows. Sunlight filtered through lush green plants hanging from the ceiling, casting soft shadows across the wooden floor and highlighting the muted greens and golds painted along the walls. Near the windows, a row of stools was occupied by early risers nursing cups of coffee or tapping away on laptops, the quiet murmur of their conversations adding a gentle hum to the bakery's atmosphere.[/color]

[color=#f88379][i]Perfect[/i][/color][i][color=#ffffff],[/color][/i][color=#ffffff] Elena thought as she spotted an empty stool near the corner, her chosen vantage point. She wove through the tables with ease, the view from the wide windows promising a pleasant distraction. Outside, the last of the autumn leaves, in shades of orange and brown, skittered across the pavement, a peaceful contrast to the cold bustle of Cloverfield’s streets beyond.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Settling onto the stool, Elena ordered a green tea and one of the matcha croissants, her fingers tracing the worn edge of the counter as she waited. She tapped her notebook lightly against the tabletop, eyes drifting over the scrawled notes about the witness she was here to meet. He was supposed to arrive soon, and despite her cautious skepticism, she couldn’t ignore the thrill of curiosity bubbling up inside her[/color]

[color=#ffffff]She lived for moments like these, when something strange and unknown hovered on the edge of her reality, waiting for the perfect time to introduce itself. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]As her tea and pastry arrived, Elena tucked the notebook away, allowing herself a moment to savor the calm before things grew complicated. She took a slow sip, feeling the warmth spread through her, grounding her as she glanced out the window with a quiet, lingering optimism. Perhaps, this time, the witness would have something real to offer—something that could actually be followed, a breadcrumb that could lead somewhere interesting.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Minutes ticked by, and Elena found herself glancing toward the door each time it swung open, trying to keep her expression neutral. But she knew there was a glimmer of anticipation in her eyes, an intensity she couldn’t quite mask whenever she was on the scent of a lead. After weeks of relative quiet, this felt like a chance to dive back into the mysteries that Cloverfield held, and her mind buzzed with the possibilities.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Finally, the door creaked open, and an older man shuffled inside, bundled in a coat that seemed comically oversized. His clothes were mismatched—a tattered scarf wrapped around a worn-out jacket—and his large, slightly crooked glasses perched haphazardly on his nose. His eyes scanned the room uncertainly, and after a moment, they found her, holding her gaze with a kind of sheepish determination.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Elena straightened, a small smile tugging at her lips as she raised her hand slightly to wave him over, her anticipation mingling now with a flicker of skepticism.[/color][color=#f88379][i]Well, here goes nothing[/i][/color][color=#f88379],[/color][color=#ffffff] she thought, watching as he hesitated, then shuffled awkwardly toward her.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]The man reached her table with an awkward nod, one that might have been respectful if not for the nervous energy vibrating beneath it.[/color][color=#666666] “Ms. Castellano?” [/color][color=#ffffff]he rasped, his voice rough, each word grinding out like gravel scraping across pavement. His gaze held a peculiar intensity, a strange mix of fear and sincerity, as if he was still questioning whether she was someone he could trust.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]She nodded, gesturing to the seat across from her.[/color][color=#f88379] “Thanks for coming. I appreciate you reaching out.”[/color][color=#ffffff] Her voice was steady, professional, as she sized him up, trying to read the shifting expressions on his face.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]He lowered himself into the chair with a jittery stiffness, fingers fidgeting with his scarf like it might offer him some protection. His eyes darted around the room, scanning the shadows as if they might spring to life and expose his secrets. [/color][color=#666666]“I, uh… I don’t know if anyone else would believe what I saw,” [/color][color=#ffffff]he admitted, his voice dropping, his gaze fixed on his hands as if the words were too heavy to lift. [/color][color=#666666]“But you seem like the kind of person who… doesn’t just brush things off.”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Elena leaned forward, intrigued despite herself. [/color][color=#f88379]“Well, you’re right about that. Why don’t you start from the beginning?”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]He took a shaky breath, the air escaping him in a tremor as he glanced around the bakery, eyes flickering to the windows as if he feared prying eyes might materialize. [/color][color=#666666]“It happened last week… I was walking home late, through the old district. I was… well, I’d had a few drinks, so I wasn’t thinking too much of it, you know?”[/color][color=#ffffff] His eyes darted up, seeking some spark of understanding, perhaps expecting her to laugh or dismiss him. But her expression remained calm, inviting him to continue.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]He cleared his throat, as if trying to summon courage from somewhere deep inside himself. [/color][color=#666666]“I saw… something,”[/color][color=#ffffff] he said. [/color][color=#666666]“A shadow, moving like it had a mind of its own. At first, I thought it was just… you know, a trick of the light or something.” [/color][color=#ffffff]He paused, fingers clutching the edge of the table.[/color]

[color=#666666]“But then it… it started following me.”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Elena’s skepticism began to soften, replaced by a flicker of intrigue that she couldn’t quite suppress. Shadows with minds of their own were far from unusual tales in Cloverfield, where strange occurrences were whispered about as often as the weather. Yet there was something in his tone, in the slight tremor of his hands, that suggested his fear was real. She leaned in a little closer, signaling her full engagement. [/color][color=#f88379]“And then?”[/color][color=#ffffff] she asked, her voice low and gentle, coaxing him to keep going.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]He swallowed, his gaze darting to the door as if half-expecting something to slink inside after him. [/color][color=#666666]“It… it whispered my name,” [/color][color=#ffffff]he finally managed, his voice barely more than a tremor. [/color][color=#666666]“Not… not like a person would. It was like the air itself was speaking.”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]She tilted her head slightly, her mind racing through a catalog of strange encounters she’d heard of in Cloverfield, none of them quite like this. [/color][color=#f88379]“And did it say anything else?”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]His nod was slow, reluctant, as if dredging up the memory brought him pain. His eyes, wide and haunted, seemed to look past her, to somewhere only he could see.[/color][color=#666666] “It told me I couldn’t run,” [/color][color=#ffffff]he whispered, his voice so low it was almost swallowed by the hum of the bakery around them. [/color][color=#666666]“That [/color][i][color=#666666]it[/color][/i][color=#666666] was waiting.”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]A chill crept down Elena’s spine, but she kept her face impassive, her expression open and receptive. [/color][color=#f88379]“Waiting for what?”[/color][color=#ffffff] she asked. [/color]

[color=#666666]“I don’t know,” [/color][color=#ffffff]he replied. His hands twisted in his lap, fingers white with tension.[/color][color=#666666] “It… it felt like it was inside my head, whispering things I didn’t understand. Like it knew everything about me—things no one else could possibly know.” [/color][color=#ffffff]He paused, a haunted look flickering across his face.[/color][color=#666666] “It was like it was… claiming me.”[/color]

[color=#f88379]“And…has it spoken to you since?”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]The man gave a shaky nod, his gaze dropping to the tabletop as if the memory itself was too intense to meet head-on.[/color][color=#666666] “Every night since,” [/color][color=#ffffff]he whispered. [/color][color=#666666]“It... calls to me. Just outside my window.”[/color][color=#ffffff] He paused, lowering his voice further, as though afraid it might hear him even now. [/color][color=#666666]“Sometimes, I think I see it, just… standing there, in the corner of my room.” [/color][color=#ffffff]His words were punctuated by a shudder, his arms wrapping tightly around himself as though that alone could stave off the chill of his fears.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Elena watched him closely. This wasn't the first time she’d heard stories about strange, shadowy figures lurking around Cloverfield’s alleys and bedrooms. The city had an uncanny knack for drawing in such tales like moths to a flame, and every block had its own ghost story. Yet, as she noted the deep lines of exhaustion etched into the man's face, she felt a prickling hint of doubt creeping up, tempered by skepticism. People could be dramatic, especially when it came to late-night shadows and minds muddled by exhaustion or too much to drink.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Maybe he was just another lost soul, tangled up in his own mind, desperate for an explanation—any explanation.[/color]

[i][color=#f88379]Or just incredibly fricken high[/color][/i][color=#ffffff], she thought, her lips twitching with the trace of a smirk she quickly suppressed.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Her fingers drummed lightly against the edge of her cup as she continued to study him, keeping her expression neutral. [/color][color=#f88379]“Has anyone seen it? Or is it just you?” [/color]

[color=#ffffff]The man's face contorted, his mouth opening and closing as though he were searching for the right words but only finding hollow ones. [/color][color=#666666]“No one else,” [/color][color=#ffffff]he admitted, a flicker of shame darkening his expression. [/color][color=#666666]“I’ve told a few people, but they… they look at me like I’m crazy.” [/color][color=#ffffff]His gaze rose to meet hers, a plea written in his haunted eyes. [/color][color=#666666]“But I’m not. I know what I saw. I know what I [/color][i][color=#666666]feel[/color][/i][color=#666666].”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Elena pressed her lips together, her doubt solidifying into something that felt uncomfortably close to resignation. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]This was the problem with cases like his—more often than not, they unraveled into nothing more than a string of feverish imaginings and overactive imaginations, propped up by loneliness or a need to feel seen. She’d encountered it time and again: people so eager to make sense of the unknown that they would weave entire mythologies around a shadow cast by a streetlamp or a draft in a creaking house.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]She took a slow, measured sip of her tea, letting the silence linger between them, hoping he might bridge it with something more substantial. But he only sat there, fingers tapping an anxious rhythm on the edge of his coat, his eyes flitting back and forth between her and the window, as if expecting the shadow itself to be lurking just outside the glass.[/color]

[color=#f88379]“So, let me get this straight,”[/color][color=#ffffff] she said finally, her voice a blend of patience and faint incredulity. [/color][color=#f88379]“You're saying a shadow—a shadow with a mind of its own—has been following you, whispering things only you can hear. And no one else has witnessed this?” [/color][color=#ffffff]She raised an eyebrow, keeping her expression calm but allowing just a trace of doubt to color her tone.[/color][color=#f88379] “And this shadow… it’s waiting for you?”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]He nodded again, but his confidence wavered, the certainty in his eyes flickering like a candle nearly snuffed out. [/color][color=#666666]“I know how it sounds,”[/color][color=#ffffff] he said, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper, as if desperation alone kept it alive.[/color][color=#666666] “But please, Ms. Castellano… I’m not crazy. I don’t know what it wants, but I can’t sleep, I can’t think—I’m afraid it’s going to take something from me, something I can’t get back.”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]A pang of sympathy stirred in her, but it was tempered by practicality. There was no proof, no other witnesses, just the tale of a man who seemed to teeter on the edge of sanity, grappling with shadows only he could see. She didn’t doubt his belief in his own story—whatever he’d seen had shaken him to his core.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]But in a city like Cloverfield, where legends bled into everyday life, she couldn’t afford to chase down every tale spun by someone caught between fear and reality.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Elena leaned back, setting her cup down with a soft clink against the saucer. [/color][color=#f88379]“Look,” [/color][color=#ffffff]she said gently, choosing her words carefully. [/color][color=#f88379]“I can tell this has been hard on you, and I don’t doubt that you experienced something. But without more to go on… there’s not much I can do here.” [/color][color=#ffffff]She paused, offering a sympathetic, if not slightly weary, smile.[/color][color=#f88379] “Cloverfield is a strange place, and sometimes things that seem real… well, they’re just shadows playing tricks.”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]The man’s face crumpled, his shoulders drooping as if her words had drained the last reserves of hope from him. [/color][color=#666666]“So… you don’t believe me,”[/color][color=#ffffff] he whispered, his voice hollow.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]She sighed softly, guilt tugging at her as his gaze dropped to his hands in defeat. [/color][color=#f88379]“It’s not that I don’t believe you,”[/color][color=#ffffff] she said softly, almost apologetically. [/color][color=#f88379]“I just need more than a story. If you see it again… if you can capture any kind of proof, even the smallest thing… come back to me, and I promise, I’ll look into it.”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]He nodded numbly, his hope extinguished, a shadow of the man he’d been when he first sat down. Muttering a quiet thank you, the man stood, his figure hunched, defeated, and slipped out of the bakery. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]Elena watched him fade into the crowd outside, blending in with the city’s anonymous faces, as though he’d never even been there at all.[/color][/indent]