The bell above the café door jingled softly as Wednesday Addams pushed it open. The warmth inside was an unwelcome contrast to the bitter chill of Jericho’s autumn air, but she supposed the occasional foray into mundane comfort was tolerable. The café smelled of coffee and cinnamon, with the faintest trace of something floral lingering in the air. She stepped inside, her boots clicking on the wooden floor, and made her way to a small corner table near the window.

A woman behind the counter offered a polite smile, which Wednesday ignored entirely. She set her bag on the table, its weight causing the wood to creak, and pulled out a leather-bound notebook.

Her gaze swept the room, cataloging its patrons. A middle-aged couple whispered conspiratorially over matching lattes, a trio of teenagers scrolled through their phones in silence, and a lone figure sat by the counter, back turned to the room. It was all painfully ordinary, though Wednesday supposed even the grotesque often masqueraded as mundane.

She flipped open her notebook, her pen poised above the page. The first entry in her new surroundings deserved precision. “Jericho,” she wrote in her meticulous script. “A town so devoid of character that its most defining feature is its mediocrity.”

Her dark musings were interrupted by a voice.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Wednesday’s gaze snapped upward. The lone figure from the counter now stood before her, holding a steaming mug in one hand and a book in the other. Her voice was calm, confident—a stark contrast to the hesitant tones of the café’s other patrons.

“I do mind,” Wednesday replied flatly.

Wednesday closed her notebook with deliberate slowness, leaning back in her chair.

A silence settled between them, er expression unreadable.

“You’re not from around here,” Wednesday said finally, breaking the silence.

“Neither are you,” the girl countered.