Page 79 of Dreamscape Therapies

Her voice dies.

Her eyes lock on Vincent.

I watch the change happen in real time. Her smile disappears, her shoulders drawing inward as her body instinctively shifts into a defensive posture. Her pupils widen slightly, and I recognize the subtle signs of a fight-or-flight response. Her gaze moves rapidly between Vincent and me as though she's trying to reconcile what she's seeing with whatever she's been told.

Finally, her eyes settle on me.

"Dr. Kim."

Shock rolls through me.

"You know who I am?"

"Yes."

She swallows hard. I notice the tension in her jaw as her gaze returns to Vincent. But there's something different in her expression now. It's not just fear.

It's guilt.

"I..." Her voice falters. "You're Vincent, right?"

"I am."

He gives her a single, cautious nod.

One of the elderly women from earlier shuffles around the corner with the help of a walker.

"Dany, honey? Is everything okay? I'm getting some strange vibes from this area of the store."

"I think so, Mags." Dany kneels quickly, gathering the fallen yarn. Her hands are trembling, though she tries to hide it. "Thanks for checking, though."

The false cheer in her voice seems to reassure the older woman, who gives us one last curious glance before shuffling back toward the front of the shop.

One of the skeins rolls farther away from Dany, and Vincent bends to pick it up. He holds the deep emerald ball of wool out to her when she stands.

Dany studies him carefully.

I watch her watching him.

She's looking for something. Evidence of the monster Trent described, perhaps. Some sign of aggression or manipulation. Something that will confirm the story she's apparently been told.

But Vincent just stands there, calm and patient, holding out a ball of yarn like it's the most ordinary thing in the world.

Slowly, Dany reaches for it.

"Thank you," she whispers.

She holds the green yarn against her chest for a moment before placing it carefully back in the basket.

The silence that follows stretches until it becomes almost tangible.

I can see her processing everything in front of her through the tiny shifts in her expression. Confusion. Realization. Then something much worse.

The dawning horror of someone beginning to realize they may have been manipulated.

Dany glances toward the front of the shop, where the elderly women have already returned to their conversation. The soft clicking of knitting needles continues, completely oblivious to the tension gathering behind the shelves.

"I don't think we should have this conversation in here."