(no subject)
In Hell, the coffee is almost always cold. When it’s not cold, it’s so hot it scalds your tongue. Some aspects of coffee depended entirely on personal preference; if you wanted cream and sugar they had just run out, if you wanted plain black all they had were frappuchino mocha latte extra grande supremes. The one constant was the temperature.
Elise watched her coffee out of the corner of her eye as she set up her laptop. This was her favorite cafe, for the simple reason that if you were observant, if you were careful, and if you were lucky, you might once in a very great while catch one small sip at the very moment between boiling and frozen. She had last taken one five years ago, as her reckoning went. It was hard to tell how much time had passed, sometimes. Nevertheless, it had been the single greatest moment of her un-life.
There was steam rising out of the white plastic lid of the cardboard cup as Elise typed away at the laptop. The one reason, the single, solitary reason she worked herself to the bone at the nightclub was so she could support herself as a freelance writer. Considering she spent more time these days serving up strangely colored alcohol with little umbrellas in than actually writing, it was only her zenlike calm and the stress release that came from beating on patrons that kept her sane.
“He walked... he sauntered to the... no, he sauntered over to the...” she muttered to herself as she typed. This being Hell, she had a snowball’s chance in... well, you know, of actually making it as a novelist. She figured that since she had all the time in the world and then some, she was bound to get lucky once.
“Whatchoo writing?” a voice said from the level of her knee. She looked down after a quick glance at her coffee (still steaming, beginning to melt the cup). A small child was looking up at her, hands braced on the top of the table as he peered at the laptop.
“Smut,” Elise said unthinkingly, and then winced. In about two seconds he would ask...
“Whazzat?”
Should have expected that, Elise thought. “It’s very boring. You wouldn’t like it.”
“Bet I would.”
“Bet you wouldn’t.”
“Bet I would.”
Elise turned around, leaning down to the eye level of the child.He had a lollipop in his mouth. “You really want to know?”
“Yes!”
“Really?”
“Really!”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
Elise looked at her coffee. It had begun to form ice crystals on the table; the air around it breathed fog. She sighed mournfully at the missed opportunity of drinkability.
“I have a lollipop,” the child said seriously.
Elise stared at him. “That’s nice,” she managed.
“Yep.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Dunno.”
“Right.” Elise nodded. “I’m going to go home now. Why don’t you go too?”
“Okay.”
Elise packed up her laptop, dumped her frozen coffee in the trash, and left the building. She had walked three blocks before she noticed the child was following her, looking seriously at the billboards they passed as if they held the meaning of life.
Elise sighed. It was going to be a long eternity.
I have no idea where the little kid came from. O_o He just sort of popped up and now I can't get rid of him.
Elise watched her coffee out of the corner of her eye as she set up her laptop. This was her favorite cafe, for the simple reason that if you were observant, if you were careful, and if you were lucky, you might once in a very great while catch one small sip at the very moment between boiling and frozen. She had last taken one five years ago, as her reckoning went. It was hard to tell how much time had passed, sometimes. Nevertheless, it had been the single greatest moment of her un-life.
There was steam rising out of the white plastic lid of the cardboard cup as Elise typed away at the laptop. The one reason, the single, solitary reason she worked herself to the bone at the nightclub was so she could support herself as a freelance writer. Considering she spent more time these days serving up strangely colored alcohol with little umbrellas in than actually writing, it was only her zenlike calm and the stress release that came from beating on patrons that kept her sane.
“He walked... he sauntered to the... no, he sauntered over to the...” she muttered to herself as she typed. This being Hell, she had a snowball’s chance in... well, you know, of actually making it as a novelist. She figured that since she had all the time in the world and then some, she was bound to get lucky once.
“Whatchoo writing?” a voice said from the level of her knee. She looked down after a quick glance at her coffee (still steaming, beginning to melt the cup). A small child was looking up at her, hands braced on the top of the table as he peered at the laptop.
“Smut,” Elise said unthinkingly, and then winced. In about two seconds he would ask...
“Whazzat?”
Should have expected that, Elise thought. “It’s very boring. You wouldn’t like it.”
“Bet I would.”
“Bet you wouldn’t.”
“Bet I would.”
Elise turned around, leaning down to the eye level of the child.He had a lollipop in his mouth. “You really want to know?”
“Yes!”
“Really?”
“Really!”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
Elise looked at her coffee. It had begun to form ice crystals on the table; the air around it breathed fog. She sighed mournfully at the missed opportunity of drinkability.
“I have a lollipop,” the child said seriously.
Elise stared at him. “That’s nice,” she managed.
“Yep.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Dunno.”
“Right.” Elise nodded. “I’m going to go home now. Why don’t you go too?”
“Okay.”
Elise packed up her laptop, dumped her frozen coffee in the trash, and left the building. She had walked three blocks before she noticed the child was following her, looking seriously at the billboards they passed as if they held the meaning of life.
Elise sighed. It was going to be a long eternity.
I have no idea where the little kid came from. O_o He just sort of popped up and now I can't get rid of him.