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墨書 Inktalez
The café truly existed.
This discovery brought me a sense of relief, yet an undercurrent of unease lingered. It was located just around the corner from the clinic, with a weathered wooden sign hanging at the entrance, its paint so chipped that the name was barely legible. Sunlight streamed through the colorful glass door, casting a kaleidoscope of shadows on the floor. In a daze, those patches of light resembled the snowflakes in surveillance footage.
Pushing the door open, a faint aroma of coffee wafted toward me. The décor inside matched my boyfriend's description perfectly, exuding a vintage charm: deep brown wooden tables and chairs, weathered red brick walls adorned with several aged black-and-white photographs. In one corner, an orange cat lounged lazily on a cushion. Strangely, although I distinctly disliked cats, I felt an inexplicable familiarity with this one.
"Same as usual?" The server's voice pulled me back to reality. I paused for a moment, unable to respond before she turned and headed to the bar, saying, "Tiramisu and black tea, coming right up."
I opened my mouth but couldn't find my voice. This was my first visit here; how could the server know my preferences? Moreover, why did she seem so familiar? That professionally smiling face reminded me of someone I had seen in the hospital.
As I waited, I glanced around. A few customers were scattered throughout the café, but oddly enough, I couldn't clearly make out any of their faces. They appeared to be shrouded in frosted glass, their outlines blurred and movements sluggish. The only distinct feature was their identical coffee cups, all adorned with gold rims.
I chose a seat by the window. Through the glass, I could see people bustling along the street. The sunlight remained bright, yet the scene outside gave off a peculiar sense of stillness, like a slideshow being replayed endlessly.
The server brought over my order. The presentation of the Tiramisu was exquisite, but what made my heart skip a beat was the cup of black tea—it was exactly like the one in my office with its gold rim. I was certain that cup should be locked away in my drawer at that very moment.
"This cup..." I started to ask, but the server had already turned away. Her back held an indescribable familiarity; her walking posture reminded me of Xiao Lin.
I looked down at the Tiramisu; as my fork pierced through the cake, a rich aroma of coffee escaped. This flavor was indeed unique, carrying a hint of medicinal bitterness. I took a bite and felt that strange sense of familiarity wash over me again. I must have tasted this somewhere before—where could it have been?
Just as I was lost in thought, a voice came from behind me: "I knew you would be here."
It was Wang Ling. She had been my friend for many years and was also a psychologist. However, today she looked somewhat different; her white professional attire made her appear particularly competent—more like a... nurse?
"How have you been lately?" She sat down across from me, her eyes filled with a professional concern. "I'm worried about what happened last week."
"Last week?" I put down my fork. "Did something happen?"
Wang Ling's expression froze for a moment before she broke into a reassuring smile. "It's nothing, I might have remembered it wrong." Her gaze fell on the Tiramisu in front of me. "You still like this."
Her words made me feel inexplicably uneasy. I looked down at my plate and suddenly noticed a line of small text along the edge. Leaning closer, I saw that it was written in coffee stains: "Don't Trust Them."
This line reminded me of something I had found in my notebook last night. I shot my head up and found Wang Ling looking at me with a peculiar expression.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing," I forced myself to remain calm. "It's just... everything here feels so familiar."
"Of course it does," Wang Ling smiled. "You come here every Wednesday." Her tone was certain, as if stating an obvious fact.
Every Wednesday? A wave of dizziness washed over me. Those missing memories, the mysterious Visitor L, and now this new routine that I had no recollection of.
"By the way," Wang Ling pulled an envelope from her bag, "this is what you left here last week."
I opened the envelope to find an instant photo inside. The picture showed the interior of the café, with an orange cat in the corner, a coffee cup with golden edges, and a person sitting with their back to the camera. They were dressed in dark clothing and seated by the window.
As I examined the photo, my boyfriend's message came through: "Are you done with work? Want to meet at the café?"
I looked up to say goodbye to Wang Ling, but I found that she had already left without me noticing. I glanced around the café; it was completely empty, and even the orange cat was nowhere to be seen. The only thing left in front of me was half of the Tiramisu, and the liquid in my cup of red tea had gone cold.
As I stood up to leave, I inadvertently caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window. In that moment, it seemed as if I saw myself wearing dark clothing, sitting at the window seat—just like the person in the photograph. But when I looked down, I clearly saw that I was wearing a light-colored suit.
Stepping out of the café, I couldn't help but look back. The sunlight was still bright, and the street scene was familiar, yet something felt off. It wasn't until I turned the corner that I realized: on this entire street, only the café's window reflected a gloomy day.
My boyfriend arrived shortly after. He wasn't wearing his white coat today, but his tone still carried the gentle authority typical of a doctor.
"How are you feeling today?" he asked.
"I'm okay," I hesitated for a moment, "but... do you think there's something strange about this café?"
His expression stiffened for a brief second before he quickly regained his composure. "Strange? I think it's quite nice. Haven't you always liked it here?"
I remembered the photograph and was about to pull it out to show him when I discovered that the envelope had somehow turned into a blank prescription pad. Faintly written on it were the words: "Remember how you feel today."
Once home, I immediately opened my computer to check L's consultation records. To my surprise, there was a recorded conversation:
Visitor L: I always go to that café. Consultant: Why do you go there? Visitor L: Because it's the only place where I can see myself clearly. Consultant: See what? Visitor L: See who the real me is.
The record was signed with my name and dated last Wednesday at three in the afternoon. But if I was the Consultant, why did I have no recollection of this conversation? If I was Visitor L...
The thought sent a chill through me. I walked into the bathroom, hoping cold water would help wake me up. The reflection staring back at me looked pale and dazed. As I focused on my image in the mirror, it suddenly dawned on me: the person in the mirror was wearing dark clothing, while I was clearly dressed in a beige coat.
At that moment, the doorbell rang.
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