A stranger appeared by her side and sat at her table, insisting he was her soulmate.


Sarah’s stomach churned with fear. If he was indeed the one, wouldn’t she feel butterflies instead?


Just moments ago, she had entered the restaurant with curved shoulders and a hung head. The comforting, bright atmosphere, with its spicy scents, sounds of cutlery and lively conversations, was like a warm embrace. As Sarah let out a gentle breath, her racing heart and tense muscles loosened just barely.


She navigated the tables, heading for the furthest corner. Sarah straightened her uniform before sitting on the old, red vinyl bench and picking up the menu. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the words on the page. Angry, she wiped them, berating herself for taking the late shift, but again, she needed the money to pay the rent. 

She scanned the establishment - couples and families occupied the space. From the next table, she overheard snippets of laughter - friends celebrated an upcoming wedding. A whiff of liquor made her nose twitch; she contemplated ordering a drink, but she wasn’t here to relax.


The adrenaline rush faded, leaving her exhausted. Her tired eyes burned; she longed to be home in bed. Instead, she hid in this place, afraid to get out in the cold, damp evening where evil lurked. Suppose her stalker still waited? She had noticed him a long time ago but never up close - only a silhouette disappearing from view as soon as she spotted him, but his eyes followed each of her movements - relentlessly pursuing and preying on her. In her head, she pictured an older, dirtier, unattractive man.


The large windows held Sarah’s stubborn gaze, yet the night’s darkness made them appear opaque. She slouched more. By chance, she dyed her hair dark brown yesterday. Gone was the telltale pink.


With a rumbling stomach, Sarah realized she hadn’t eaten since noon, and it was already past nine. The server hadn’t come by now, but she wasn’t ready yet to order.


Her attention returned to the menu: hamburger, salad, wraps, and a fish sandwich with fries. She typically ordered a chicken jalapeno wrap, but nothing appealed to her today. Her stomach growled again, demanding food.


A pretty, vivacious woman in a server’s uniform rushed by her side.


“I’m ready to order,” said Sarah, stopping her. 


The woman paused and gave her client a fleeting look before withdrawing a pad from her pocket. The name tag read ‘Darla’. A smile played on the server’s lips, yet her exhausted eyes, ringed with dark pouches, spoke of countless overtime hours.


“What would it be, darlin’?” she asked, popping a bubblegum. 


She would have been fired elsewhere, but not from this small, rundown restaurant offering meagre wages.


Hesitating once more, Sarah ordered a diet Coke and a chicken salad. 


“Anythin’ else?”


Sarah shook her head. “That’s all for now.”


“I’ll be back soon.” Darla rushed to a table where a man signalled for the bill.


Sarah emptied her pocket onto the formica table, revealing a small pile of crumpled bills and smaller coins, the day’s tips. While counting, a noise made her lift her head. A man stood before her before pulling a chair and sitting down. Despite being a stranger, he grinned at her as if they were old friends, while his eyes studied her with rapt attention. The stranger appeared normal, if not handsome - flawless skin, dark soulful eyes, and long black hair. 


“Good evening, Sarah,” he greeted, his voice rich and musical.


Her hunger vanished instantly, supplanted by a wave of violent nausea. Icy terror twisted her gut, fighting with a visceral disgust, but nothing tangible prompted the reaction. On the contrary - Sarah would have considered him the perfect illustration of the ideal man in her youth. He possessed a cared-for appearance and distinguished and dignified behaviour.

Gripped by violent tremors, Sarah locked her jaws.


The stranger’s smile grew wider.


Through gritted teeth, she hissed, “I am not interested.”


The man drew closer, and his hand overlapped hers. “Everything will be fine now. I am here - your soulmate.”


Was he insane? “I’ll cry for help,” she threatened, her chin lifted.


“Why? Are you scared of me?”


She didn’t respond. Darkness loomed as Sarah struggled to inhale, her throat constricting. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest. Her clammy hands squeezed the table as ragged breaths escaped her trembling lips. “You’re not my soulmate,” she moaned. “I don’t know you. Leave me alone.”


Instead, his hand reached towards her cheek. Jumping back, Sarah knocked over her chair, the clatter startling the customers. Pairs of eyes turned towards them.


“Help me,” she shouted. “This man wants to hurt me!” With a trembling finger, she pointed at the stranger.


The server lunged towards her, frowning. “Are you okay?” Darla straightened the chair and guided the shaking Sarah back into it. “I’ll bring your order.”


Numb, she sat down. “But the man-”


“What man?” Darla looked baffled. “Sweetheart, there’s no man.” 


“He’s right here-” Sara’s voice quivered. The stranger was beside her. How come Darla couldn’t see him? A scream was building inside her and she opened her mouth. 


He put his finger on her lips, shushing her. “Sarah, love, don’t draw more attention to yourself. You see me because I am your soulmate. Haven’t you wished for one?”


 Her frozen brain slowly turned. No, it was impossible. She shook her head. “I was a teenager then-”


“Sometimes wishes take time to materialize. I am here now.”


“But I don’t want you!”


How much she had dreamed of a companion, a kindred soul, but this across the table was an abomination. “Are you a demon?”


Devilish flames licked at his irises. He grinned. “Loneliness created me, love. Hell is not a distant place, but something we feed inside of us. People should be careful with what they wish for.” He grasped Sarah’s clammy hand in his burning one. “Don’t you believe in soulmates?”