Starts of small in the Café

The bell above the café door chimed as they stepped inside. Warm air, the smell of roasted beans, and the low hum of conversation washed over Freddie, and instantly made his stomach twist. Every person here was a potential test subject. Every person here was a potential victim.

Amber joined the queue, humming to herself. Freddie hovered behind her, his pulse thudding in his ears.

Okay… just something small. Something harmless. Something no one will care about.

But what if it works? What if it works too well? What if I say something stupid and. No. Stop. Focus, Freddie.

“Two iced coffees, please,” Amber said to the barista.

Freddie swallowed. His mouth felt dry. This was it, the moment he’d been dreading and needing in equal measure.

The barista looked up. “Anything else?”

Freddie spoke before he could talk himself out of it.

“Uh… yeah. You’re… you’re left‑handed.”

The barista blinked. Confusion flickered across her face then smoothed into certainty.

“Oh. Right. Yeah. I am.” She switched the pen to her left hand without hesitation.

Freddie’s heart dropped into his

[shoes.

It](http://shoes.It) worked. Again. She wasn’t left‑handed a second ago. I’m changing people. I’m actually changing people.

Panic spiked. He leaned forward quickly. “Sorry, I meant right‑handed,” he added, forcing a casual tone.

“Oh! Right, yeah,” she said, switching the pen back without a second thought.

A tiny correction, but it made his skin crawl. He’d just rewritten her twice in under ten seconds.

Amber didn’t notice. She was tapping her card, smiling at the little cartoon face on the payment screen.

Freddie stepped back, breath shallow.

This isn’t a power. It’s a loaded weapon. And I’m the one holding it.