Morning

Somewhere in the city is a cafe.

The cafe doesn't have a name or brand. There is simply a sign on the front window reading "Cafe" in what is very clearly just one of those cursive fonts that comes with Microsoft Word, with a clip art of a steaming coffee underneath it. Nothing special, but a quaint little advertisement. It's closed, right now. The door is locked. But there is someone in the cafe anyway.

The storeroom is cold, insulated and maintained by a little cooling unit in the corner, though it's off right now. It's cold enough outside as is.

A figure on the floor stretches themself out a bit. Their arm collides with the feet of one of the shelves. Its contents rattle a little.
A frown forms on their face, and they open an eye to see what the clatter was.
Almost immediately, their other eye follows suit, both wide.

They clamber backwards, sitting up just in time for the back of their head to hit the corner of another shelf, knocking a box of muffins over onto the ground beside them. Their breathing quick, hyperventilating. Their eyes dart around, trying to figure out where exactly they are, still blurry. Where were their glasses? Usually they keep them on the bedstand, but there is no bedstand, nor is there a bed. They were just laying on the floor. Weren't they in their house when they went to sleep? How long were they asleep? Did someone kidnap them? Where was their phone-

They happened to look down at the box of muffins, and realised that there was a phone. It looked like theirs, that green heavy-duty case that they didn't quite care for covering it and absorbing whatever damage would have come from it (presumably) falling out of the muffin box.

They tentatively pick it up, and look at the time. 7:56am.

They glance at the weather widget. 8 degrees celsius outside, partly cloudy. Colder than any weather they've had where they live. Then they see the location.
West City

They don't have any time to consider where the fuck that is before they hear the ringing of a bell.
Their breathing stops.
They hear footsteps. A person's voice.
They hear a bag get slumped down onto a counter, keys being hooked back onto it. The handle on the door turns.
Light from the cafe fills the storeroom.
A silhouette of a woman. Her hair is modestly long, stopping just above her shoulders. She's wearing a black shirt with a guitar on the front underneath a jacket, with long pants, with some sneakers completing the look.
That's all that the person laying in the storeroom gets to see before the scream of the woman reaches their ears.

"The fuck?!"

Katherine slams the door to the storeroom back over.
Why the fuck is there someone in the storeroom. What are they doing there. What the fuck? Did they break in? Are they the boss?? Are they on the menu today????

Her thoughts catch up to her panic, and she breathes in and out.
Think, Kathy, there's someone in the storeroom. They might be a thief. They're probably a thief.
Her eyes land on the broom leaning against the counter. She walks over and takes it up in her hand.
You can deal with them, right? Self defense? You were in a martial arts club when you were like. 7. You're fine.

Broom in hand, she grasps the handle of the door, and pushes it open slowly.

The person in the storeroom is now hiding behind one of the shelves. Staring.
The sunlight shining in from the windows reflects in their eyes as they stare at her.
Neither party says anything.

Katherine tightens her grip on the broom, and steps inside.
The figure behind the far shelf backs away again, into the far corner of the storeroom.

Katherine walks over, slowly, carefully. She corners them in the aisle. Their eyes remain fixated on her, like a prey animal. Very uncharacteristic of a thief.
Her senses come to her, and she tilts her head slightly. She's the first to speak.

"You're not here to steal anything, are you?"
The figure gives a tiny shake of the head in response.
"How'd you get in here? Break in?"
They shake their head again.
Katherine sighs. "You're not the boss, are you? Because if the boss that I've been chasing for a year and a half--"
"W-what?" the person interrupts. Their voice is shaky. Quiet. Fearful. Genuinely so.

Katherine stares for a moment longer.
She sighs, shows the broom, and shoves it over to the side. It clatters to the ground and she jumps slightly.
"Shit-- I could have done that better."

The person stifles a giggle, drawing her attention to themself before covering their mouth in embarrassment.

"No, no, laugh! I can take a joke, unlike some people." A frown forms on her face, obvious even in the darkness. "You look like you need it anyway."

She reaches a hand out.

"You're not stealing anything, and you're certainly not the weirdest thing that's showed up in this storeroom overnight. Want a coffee?"

The person stares at the gesture. And carefully reaches out to accept Katherine's gesture, the long sleeve of their shirt visibly covered in tear stains.

"I'm Katherine by the way. Who're you?"
The now standing figure breathes, as if almost about to speak, before stopping.
Katherine tilts her head to the side again.
"Don't have one?"
They sigh.
"It's... complicated..."
She pauses before a realisation hits. "Ah, I see."

A few moments pass. "Those clothes look like they've seen some things, no offense. I've got some spares in my bag that you could use if you want."
The person thinks for a second or two, before sheepishly nodding. Katherine nods back.
"I'll go grab it, you can get changed in here. There's no cameras, don't worry."
Katherine turns for the door.
"You know maybe I should put a camera in here just in case someone actually breaks in next time."

The cafe is now open. It has been for a few hours.

Only a few people have come in. Katherine said that it was a slower day.

The guest sits in one of the booths, staring down into the cup of coffee that they had been made.
They refuse eye contact with the face staring back.

They take another sip.

Katherine finishes serving another customer, and walks over, leaning over the table a bit.

"How is it?"
"It's good," they whisper quietly.
"Not too hot?"
They shake their head.

Katherine glances to the door before sitting down in the booth.
"It's probably fine if I sit down here for a bit, slow day today, as you've seen."

They take a small glance around. On the other side of the cafe there is two occupied booths. One has a single person with a laptop, and the other has two people sitting side by side, eating.

"Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?"
They turn back towards Katherine with a questioning glance.
"Oh-- nothing bad, don't worry. Just making sure you're okay. And. Trying to figure out why you're in the storeroom in the first place."

They think for a moment, before nodding. They don't make eye contact with her.

"Well... uhm..."
She struggles to think of anything to ask.
"I guess I'll start with where you came from. Do you remember anything before the storeroom? Or I guess, where in the city you live? Are you from around here, I mean."

They stare down into the cup again, attention fixated inward.
"I... can't remember... I think I was in my room..."

They look forwards, more in Katherine's direction. Still not at her face.
"Now that I think about it, I don't remember anything specific about where I live... Just... Little fragments."

They look down and take another sip of the coffee. It tastes more bitter.

Katherine nods and hums in an inquisitive tone.
"Alright, that's fine. So you don't remember your name, then?"

The person looks up towards Katherine.
They try to remember their name. The name their parents gave them. The name that they grew to associate with someone other, someone distant, long gone. They try to remember his name.

She can only remember her own.

She stares directly at Katherine for a moment. A fleeting moment.

Katherine can't read the dozens of emotions rushing across her guest's face.

They open their mouth.
"I... I can't..."
Tears well clearly in their eyes, before they realise that they've been making far too much eye contact for their own good. Their face drops into their hands.
"Sorry, I- I just--"

Katherine isn't able to find any words to... comfort them? Do they need comfort?
She nudges a pile of napkins towards them slightly. They peek out at it, before taking one and wiping their face with it.
"I'm sorry, I- I don't remember..."
They look at her again, tears still in their eyes.