Night Owls

Jerry glanced down at the photograph in his hand, then back up again at the woman sitting alone at the back of the cafe.

It was her. He had to hand it to her - she was blending in splendidly: phone in hand, donning a familiar green apron, looking like any other barista waiting to start her shift. No one would ever suspect such an unremarkable person of such unfathomable cruelty. But Jerry knew.

All at once a blinding light coursed through the space. Jerry and the woman froze. And then a creature appeared, seemingly from the air itself.

"What the hell?", Jerry yelled, breaking the eerie silence that had overtaken the ambient café chatter.