#the caffeine challenge is like 1 hour of writing based off the prompt(s)

[myaestheticisapocalypse]

Latte, With Honey

My piece for @caffeinewitchcraft‘s Caffeine Challenge #21!  It’s been awhile since I’ve done any writing, so this is a bit rusty, but I thought it would at least be a fun exercise for a Sunday morning.  I used prompt #4.  Hope you enjoy!

(story below the cut)

              My entrance was announced with a soft jingle, making me flinch.  Despite the cheerful “happy pride!  All folks welcome <3” sign in the window, I still couldn’t shake the sense that I didn’t… belong in a place like this. Which, to be fair, was pretty much an ever-present anxiety of mine.  Comes with the territory.  Still, I willed my feet to carry me through the doorway.  The space was a coffee snob’s wet dream: industrial bulbs encased in mason jars hanging from the ceiling, mismatched chairs and wooden tables, fresh baked pastries, and signs advertising beans roasted daily on-site. The window glass cut the harsher tones of sunlight, and the jarred lights cast a warm glow within the room.               “Howdy!  Can I take your order?”  I looked up to see a barista with piercings from lobe to tip on her pointed ears, and suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.  Another human taking a mark of my kind and turning it into some kind of obscene fashion statement.

              “A latte.  With honey, if you have any.”  I put on my best amiable smile, willing it to feel less fake today.  I was trying.  I wanted to try.  That’s why I was here.  I kept that mantra in my head as I counted out change for my drink.

              “And will that be to go or to stay?”  I’m trying. I wanted to try.  That’s why I’m here.  I’m try—they’re looking at me they said something I missed it damn it get out of your head!

              “Pardon?”

              “Are you drinking your drink here or would you like to take it with you?  We’ve got real mugs and to-go cups, I just need to know which one to make your coffee in.”

              “Oh, right.  To go, please.”  I took another quick glance around the shop.  The light was easier on my eyes.  And there was a cozy seat adjacent to a small tabletop captive waterfall.  “…actually, to stay?  Can I do that instead?”

              “Of course!  Feel free to have a seat, I’ll call your name when it’s ready.”

              “I didn’t—” but they had already turned away to work the espresso machine.  I made my way over to the seat by the waterfall and settled in.  The soft bubbling nearly drowned out the background hum of clicking keyboards and rustling pages that filled the shop.  Pulling out a book, I glanced around and was startled to see that the barista wasn’t the only one who seemed to be mocking me.  I saw a girl at the bar, decked out in rainbow stockings and honest-to-goodness faerie wings.  Against the wall opposite me, a man with 5 o’clock shadow and large headphones on his head blinked through cats-eye contacts as he typed away at his laptop.  And there, in the shadowy corner, I saw a man with extended canines bite into a vegan muffin.  Ok—warlocks and vampires weren’t exactly my kin, but I was still offended on their behalf.  “Welcome to the freakshow,” I sighed under my breath, self-consciously rubbing at the spot where my ear points vanished behind a glamour.

              “Honey latte for Idyia!” My eyes narrowed.  That was not a name I told humans.  I approached the counter warily, not letting myself be taken in by the barista’s disarming smile.

              “How did you know that.”  I tried to keep my voice even.  I only succeeded mostly.  Their smile faltered.

              “You told me your order when you bought your coffee, the name was on your card…”

              “I paid in cash.  And even if I had used it, my card says Lydia.”  They pursed their lips, looking to the side.

              “I like guessing names, ok?  I’m good at it.  Boss says I should stop, freaks people out, what if a human comes in even if the building is glamoured, folks like their privacy, yada yada yada.  Sorry for freaking you out or whatever.”

              “Th-this building is glamoured?”

              “Well sure!  Anyone else walks in, we’re the world’s most empty and boring accounting office.  Humans can’t figure out why we haven’t gone out of business.  Didn’t you notice the lights?  And the windows?”

              “I just… thought it was for the atmosphere, ‘s all…” I muttered.

              “Hang on.  Are you telling me you thought this was a human shop?”  At my silence, they giggled.  “So Alfie’s wings, and Klaus over there in the corner—what, you thought they were just… weirdos, trying to look like our kind?”

              “Vampires aren’t technically ‘our kind’.”  It was a paltry answer, and we both knew it.

              “Idyia—or Lydia, if you prefer.  You are standing in The Idle Spinner, San Francisco’s most fantastic inhuman-friendly café.  Everyone here is enjoying a break from walking and talking and acting like a regular person.  Take a breath, enjoy the live plants and saltwater fountain.  Oh, and drink your coffee.  It’s fantastic.”  She nudged the mug towards me, but I didn’t pick it up yet.  I’m trying.  I want to try.  That’s what I’m here for.

              “Um, before I do, do you mind… can I ask you a question?”

              “No, I’m not a natural pink, but I think it suits me better than green.”

              “O-oh, it’s not that, it’s,” I gestured to my ears. “Did that hurt?”

              “The rings?  A little, but after a couple, you get used to it.  I had a friend do them, since, y’know, humans obviously wouldn’t be able to see enough of my ears to do the job properly.  Why?  You thinking of getting some?”

              “Me?  Oh, no, it’s not… not really my thing.  Um. Thanks, for the coffee.”  I snatch up my mug and take it back to the waterfall. Saltwater, no doubt just for visitors like me.  Looking closer, it seemed like every nook or table at this shop was designed with a different being in mind.  Plants of every ecosystem, darker corners for the light-averse, backless chairs for folks with wings, even tables that looked like they were built for dolls or small children, for gnomes and the like.  I suppress a smile as I sip my long-awaited drink.  They weren’t wrong—the coffee was fantastic.