Maud reached up for a green beret, fingertips touching the soft felt and stiff black ribbon that ran around its inside.

The market was busy today and was getting busier. Strange how such things creep up on you.

She saw the stranger and knew the hat he needed, the way she always knew the hat they needed. 

Her eyes tracked him as he worked his way across the market. There was something different about him. People moved out of his way without realising they were doing it. 

She placed the beret on a mannequin and reached for her special cloche. As she pulled it over her golden hair, she felt the power flow through her, and the market came alive.

“How will I ever pay my rent?” thought the fishmonger as she threw away another rotten fish.

“I know he’s cheating on me. I know,” thought the baker, as she wrapped a loaf in paper.

The thoughts crowded in from all sides and it was only from years of practice that Maud managed to silence them. She focused on the stranger.

But from him came only silence. Impossible.

She took the hat off her head and placed it back on again.

Silence.

Then his eyes caught hers and cold water spilled down her spine.

She knew him and he knew her. And if he was here, then so was she.

She felt the claws dig into the softness of her neck. Strange how such things can creep up on you.