#however the neighbor just cleaned out their gutters. which means they threw away all the crows stashed food

[theoddcatlady]

The Guardians

There was a time before we lived in Graylake, I think. Before we lived in our little house on the end of Marble Boulevard. But that was so long ago all memories I have are pale and almost gone.

My life becomes clear the moment we pulled up to our brand new house and seeing a distorted stone monster perched on the top of the roof.

I screamed and clung to my mother’s leg, pointing at the monster and asking mom what it was. My mom patted my shoulder and told me it was just a statue, that it wasn’t going to hurt me and that everything was okay. She pointed down the street and showed me that there was a statue at every house. Some were crouched on the lawn, others hanging off the gutter, some were big, some were small.

Each one was as hideous as the last.

I heard my dad say that they’d pull it down as soon as we had time, we had to unpack, get settled into our new house. I felt better hearing that and ran indoors, clutching my teddy and running up to my brand new bedroom. This one had its own closet, where I could hang up my clothes.

I was less pleased with that bedroom when I found yet another statue, curled up in the corner of the closet like it was asleep. It was no bigger than my teddy but was impossible for me to so much as budge, it was so damn heavy. I called for my mom but she could push it maybe an inch before she gave up.

“Just keep your closet closed, buddy,” She said, patting my shoulder, “It can’t hurt you.”

I hated that statue so much that I threw a blanket over it. It was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen and I wanted to never see it again. I couldn’t wait until my dad had the time to throw it away.

The following memories are better though. The neighbors came to visit, the Pattersons. They had a son my age and a daughter three years older- Tyler and Jodi. Their mom brought a homemade pizza topped with pepperoni, the dad brought a giant cookie and Tyler brought his best toys. We played in the living room while the adults talked.

My parents were having a great time, so were we. Jodi was quiet but she was incredibly sweet, not too bossy and she had a great imagination. Tyler was more outgoing but he made sure Jodi had her chances to speak up. You couldn’t find more polite children.

It wasn’t until Dad brought up how he was going to tear down that ugly statue on the roof that Jodi’s quiet nature suddenly vanished.

“No! You can’t!” She got to her feet before her hands flew to her mouth. “… I’m sorry, Mr. Sykes, I didn’t mean to use my outside voice.”

My dad raised an eyebrow before Mr. Patterson cleared his throat. “I know you didn’t mean anything poorly by that, but I’ll be the bearer of bad news- you won’t be allowed to take down the gargoyle. Notice how every single house on the street has one?” He spread out an arm. “It’s part of Graylake. You won’t find a building that doesn’t have at least one gargoyle either on or in it. It’s tradition, you understand- besides, you won’t be able to remove it anyway. Those things are practically carved into the place with how long they’ve been up there, and they’re impossible to break. People have tried and nothing good’s come of it. Trust me- you’re best off just leaving it up there. I hope we’ll see you on church on Sunday?”

Dad chuckled.

“We don’t go to church, but thank you for the invitation.”

There was a certain tenseness in the air after my dad said that. The Pattersons quickly excused themselves. Mrs. Patterson wiped the remainder of pizza sauce off my lips and reminded me to mind my manners and to ask to be excused from the table.

Manners are important in Graylake, I learned, when I went to school the following week. There was yet another gargoyle in the classroom, this one was taller than the teacher Mr. Thompson. Its twisted horns nearly brushed the ceiling, yet Mr. Thompson hardly paid it mind and instead asked us questions about manners- how you should say excuse me after you burp, how to say please and thank you, and how to ask to leave the table.

There was a whole segment of the class dedicated to manners and how to be nice to others. I didn’t think the last part needed to be taught, but Mr. Thompson took it very seriously. For every day you minded your manners, you got a gold star on the chart. If you got ten gold stars in a row you got to pick something from the prize box, a small plastic toy or a book. If you didn’t mind your manners, you got a gold star taken off the chart. If you lost all your stars, there would be a parent-teacher conference.

I was pretty obedient but even I lost a star every now and then because I pushed myself to the front of the line or started talking in class. I never had a parent-teacher conference, which was apparently a big deal to the kids. How could you be so naughty to get one of those, they wondered.

I was never told why we were so careful about how we behaved, but I learned about two weeks in that we had someone to keep us responsible for our behavior.

I suppose letting my room be cluttered after so long was inexcusable as I came home and it looked like a tornado hit my bedroom.

I stumbled over a pile of dirty clothes and nearly fell on my face. I popped back up and my jaw dropped. My toys were thrown off the shelves, the blankets were ripped off the bed, and the half empty cup of fruit juice on the nightstand had been tipped over.

I yelled for my mom and she came in, her face went white and she looked ready to call the cops.

Then Jodi knocked on the door and asked if she could help clean my room.

Of course she didn’t mess up my room, she’d been at piano lessons and my mom hadn’t let anyone come in all day, but my mom kept an eye on Jodi as we cleaned up the disaster my room had became. Jodi was perfect at keeping things neat, she lined up the books on the shelf, the toys were either put in the box or on my bed, and she knew how to make a bed so nicely it looked like it belonged in a hotel.

“You have to do better at cleaning, you could get hurt if you let your stuff stay everywhere. At least you know better now,” Jodi said as she picked up the last blanket. “Oh! Hello, I didn’t know they came so small! Aren’t you precious?”

I turned to see Jodi bending over to see that tiny gargoyle now in the center of my room, sitting up straight with its spiky tail curled around it like a cat.

I had no idea how that thing got out of the closet and I was terrified.

I tried to blame the gargoyle on the mess to my mom, but she just smiled and patted my shoulder. It was just a statue, after all. Jodi had already gone so I couldn’t ask her how the statue was moved.

When I got back up to my room, once again, the gargoyle had moved. This time it was sitting on my toybox, its hollow eyes staring at my bed.

It became clear to me that even if I didn’t know how the gargoyle was moving, it was. And for some reason, it got angry when my room wasn’t clean.

So I learned pretty quickly how to keep it not angry. Clean my room.

I struggled to make my bed at first, I was small and the blankets were heavy. However, if my bed was not to the gargoyle’s standards, I’d come back and the sheets were ripped off the bed. I’d have to do it all over again.

I got angry at the gargoyle many times. I kicked it, I yelled at it, I once poured a glass of water on it. Childish, but I had no other idea how to deal with it. My mother didn’t believe me, but she was distracted at the time as her and my father had been arguing. I didn’t know why at the time, but I think the move was a way to ignore the real problem- that they were in a struggling, unhappy relationship.

I did know that my parents didn’t kiss each other on the cheek anymore and that my dad slept on the couch more nights than not. That when I saw Jodi’s and Tyler’s mom and dad interact that I knew that they had what my parents didn’t. Happiness.

One cold Sunday morning Jodi showed up on the front porch with Tyler. Both were wearing their finest, Jodi in a dark blue dress with black shoes and Tyler was wearing a green tie and his wild hair was combed into place.

Tyler beamed when he saw that I answered the door. “Are you ready for church?” He chirped, grinning from ear to ear.

I was still in my pajamas and had only woke up when I heard the doorbell. I was in no way ready for church, I might’ve not gone before but you don’t go out in public in your pajamas.

Tyler loaned me some of his clothing, the shirt was too small but the pants fit all right, and Mrs. Patterson combed my hair as we drove to church. I told my mom I was going to play with my friends and she waved me off. She’d been in sour spirits lately as several of her wine bottles had turned up smashed in the backyard and probably wasn’t in the mood to deal with me today.

The pastor was a woman, much to my surprise, I’d only thought men could be pastors. Jodi called her Minister Sandoval, and the woman beamed when she saw me. She bent over and shook my hand. Her eyes were as dark gray as the stone of the many gargoyles perched upon the roof of the church.

“And you must be Nicolas. I’ve heard so much about you. You’ve gotten very good at making your bed, but you need to remember not to sneak snacks into bed. Cracker crumbs are not fun to sleep on either.”

Minister Sandoval knew things about me, about everyone, that no one else could know. But she was kind and her sermons were about treating others with respect and how important it was to be conscious of your actions. Always think about others and never speak behind other’s backs.

Behind the pulpit was a stained glass window, not of a cross or a scene from the Bible, but of a twisted, gray face with scarlet eyes.

I returned home and headed back to my room, finding the gargoyle curled up at the foot of my bed. Like a cat. A stoned, spiky cat.

I sat in front of it and I remember exactly what I said.

“I’m sorry for being mean to you. You just want me to be better. I’ll do better, I promise.”

I swear I heard a quiet sigh, saw that disfigured face beginning to smile.

That is when I made peace with the gargoyles. I’m not sure exactly when my mother did, but sometime after that she was the one to drive me to church instead of the Pattersons. The nightly glass of wine turned into a weekly glass, then a monthly glass. Nowadays you never catch her with a bottle of anything but sparkling grape juice.

Jodi told me one night during a sleepover that the gargoyles are just here to make sure we are good people to ourselves and each other. That’s why no one has their doors locked, why we can feel safe walking down the street. There is always someone to keep you accountable.

My father couldn’t take that.

I don’t know all that happened. I do know how the street would be so quiet on Sunday mornings and that he never went to church with us. I know that he attempted to cover the gargoyle, that he asked just about every construction place he could to help him take it down. No one would accept the job.

My mom won’t tell me everything, but I do know Dad had the meltdown a week before Christmas.

I woke up, it was late. I heard my dad yelling. My mom was calling for him to come inside, that he was crazy. My dad said things that I will not repeat and continued yelling at the gargoyle. Told it to stop watching him, told it to stop judging his life, calling him a liar and lazy, just losing his mind.

The statues did nothing until he threw a rock at it.

For the first time, I truly saw the gargoyle in my room come to life. It was a smooth movement, the statue moved as gracefully as a feline, sitting up and cocking its head to the side. Its eyes started flickering like coals as it leaped to the window and pried it open with its claws. With a strange growly sound, it climbed out.

I saw the statue on the Pattersons’ roof leap down and start padding over to our yard. I saw a dark shape in the sky with wingspan longer than some cars gliding in our direction.

Then I heard my dad scream. It was so fast if I’d blink I’d miss it, two gargoyles dragged him up into the sky, I caught a glimpse of his terrified face and the angered sneers of the statues.

I heard a wet tearing sound, a snap and the next thing I saw was a rain of blood splattering against my window.

I screamed for my mom and she ran into my room to drag me out, her face white with fear as she attempted to cover my ears, but it was too late. I could hear more cracking and snaps as the gargoyles tore my father to shreds, and those memories are some of the clearest ones I have of my childhood.

The next morning, the entire street came to help clean up the mess. Hoses washed away the blood, men picked up what remained of my dad’s flesh off the ground. I remember seeing a black garbage bag that was almost bursting before I was shooed back indoors.

My mom and I didn’t have to do anything to take care of my dad. Funeral arrangements, burial costs, everyone pitched in. This hadn’t been the first time someone had tried to attack the gargoyles, and according to Jodi it wouldn’t be the last. Minister Sandoval preached that next week how that willfully attacking a sentient being was the worst crime, and that it would never be accepted in our little village of Graylake.

It’s been many years since this all happened. I actually moved out of my mother’s house into a small place, all for myself. There’s an older gargoyle on the roof, covered in moss. I’m gonna give him a bath as soon as I can.

The lil shithead that had been living in my childhood bedroom snuck along in a box. I still can’t pick him up but he’s made himself cozy on my desk.

It’s not an ideal existence, always being watched, but I’ve lived that way for so long… I can’t imagine life without observation from a stone guardian.

[soranoportfolio]

Short Story: “A Future Day”

6 AM

Sun peered through the window into Ashe’s bedroom. The slow, lingering, early morning rays of light pierced through the blinders. The alarm rang, throwing a tantrum and making its presence known. Interrupted from a dreamless sleep, Ashe woke up. She still wasn’t used to the nagging little clicks in her lower jaw bone when loud noises triggered her bone conduction sound implant. Laying in bed, looking up at the ceiling half-asleep and annoyed, she squeezed the nail on her left index finger. The muting effect slowly unraveled over her, sound briefly splashing  the nerves enveloping her skull until her senses snapped back into place.

    “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. This was a terrible, bad, horrible idea. ”

    Ashe started her new day shift at the coffee shop in a few hours. Better hours, longer days. More money, less free time, hopefully leading to less opportunities to actually spend the money. A weird bit of preemptive responsibility on her part. All of her friends had told her she was going to be miserable, even if it finally meant having savings. It would be a change in the right direction for once.

    “I can do this. Yup, yup. Just have to… get… up?

    Ashe grabbed the nearest pillow, covered her face with it, let out a muffled scream and then threw it at the wall, not noticing nearly hiting her favorite idol band poster. With her nerves calmed, she got up and walked into the bathroom, undressed, got into the shower unit and activated it. The gas surrounded her, cleaning and disinfecting her. This was her first apartment to have the new carbon dioxide shower models. She considered them weird at first, but they saved so much time and energy in the end.

    “Hmmm. Lavender. Smells like grandma”, she reminisced.

    She went back to her room and got dressed. Bland, practical clothing with nothing overly fancy, but with a few accessories and color help her get an extra boost of confidence. She moved into the kitchen to get her primary CRISPRs for the day. “One little pill a day, to keep all the bad stuff away”, as the jingle went. Still in her early twenties, she only had to take half a dozen her so. Her parents in their mid-fifties were up to twenty a day. She looked at her container.

    “Let’s see here… hmmm. I think this should be it.”

    One to suppress genetic diseases. One to allow to function on four hours of sleep (which had the neat side-effect of making her hair a wonderful tint of fuschia). One to keep airborne pollution from affecting her. One to power her implants and small nearby electronics. One for daily basic cancer and radiation protection. The last one enabled her to fart on cue when she focused on something. Useful for escaping unwanted attention or the odd bad date.

    After a last pass through her apartment, she grabbed her things, entered the combination lock behind her and left.

7 AM

She exited her building. The streets had been cleansed and were permeated with that nice iodine smell she liked. Casually looking up at the sky, something immediately caught her eye.

    “Those red clouds are something new, that’s for sure. Nice tint! Not the choice I would have picked, though.”

    She’d read the news about the color tests they’d be doing over the next few weeks has Summer was approaching.  Ashe was still confounded by them. Some sort of new code system to help residents identify which counter-pollutants the city would be deploying on a daily basis. This sought to protect and minimize harm to the growing mass of urban residents. With cities nowadays served by direct electricity conduction, meaning power transfer without wired conduction required, most air pollution came from outside urban areas carried by freak weather patterns. The CRISPR fees for adaptation to them were hurting, which was another reason to start those 12 hour days. Plus, it meant less random chance at bodily harm from strangers while doing regular night shifts.

    “Morning!”, she hollered at the ticketer whilst flashing her badge and entering the metro tunnel. Walking down the stairs from each level, she quickly heard an incoming train and dashed to catch it in time. Nearly tripping on entry, she ran headfirst into the wagon as the door opened to not even risk missing it.

    “Small victories. Maybe this’ll be the greatest day yet”, she thought to herself sitting down in the bench.

    Even though she lived on the outskirts of the city, the metro was strangely empty going downtown for a Monday morning. She figured she missed a city festival announcement. Not like being in the service industry afforded her the luxury of regular time off to attend.

    With the trip to work longer than hour, Ashe set her alarm back on, toggled mute on her sound implant and dozed off.

9 AM

Ashe walked into the coffee shop. A little hole-in-the-wall counter just serving coffee, with space for a few table and a single line, few windows and stuck between two massive buildings. A cute arrangement, even though the mood tended to be more ominous than endearing.  As she entered, she immediately spotted her co-worker,  the night shift barista, on the verge of collapse.

    “Oh shit. Are you okay?”, she asked. “You look flushed and all purple in the face. What the hell man? What’d did you take?” as she approached to check him out.

    “Oh?. I took a plant protein pill to stay awake. Seems like there was a bad mix with one of my CRISPRs.”, Drew replied alarmingly casual about the whole affair. “I’ll just pick up a ReSet cocktail on my way home. It’s fine. It’s happened before. Please do not worry about it.”

    “Ok… if you say so… d… d-Donovan…?”, going off a leap to get his name right. She could never remember men’s names for some reason. They kind of all blurred together.

    “Drew. It’s Drew. Look… I - we’ve been switching shifts off and on the past six months.”

    “Shitshitshit. I am so, so, sorry dude”, she replied while bobbing her head awkwardly.

    Ashe was annoyed. Why couldn’t she basically remember one of her only five co-workers in this place? Like all businesses this place never even closed anymore. Better to leave the production uninterrupted and have staff just rotate in and out. Most people did not even sleep much these days, due to cheap sleep-suppressant CRISPRs being in circulation. It wasn’t even a big deal unless certain individuals decided to bring the issue up with workplace.

    “You know what? I’ll let you do clean-up and prep. Have fun with that!”, said bluntly Drew as he bolted out the door.

    “C-c-cheers!”, hummed Ashe, not sure if Drew even heard her.

    Done with embarrassing herself, she moved on to start her shift. The shop always hit a lull between 9 and 10 AM, as those times was when the neighboring offices switch their shifts as well. She opened the windows to let more sunlight, taking the time to get a good whiff of scented Spring air the city was distributing. She then turned to prepping the shop for the inevitable 10 am rush. Cleaning everything, repacking coffee grounds and drinks and making sure the place was presentable.  That last part was puzzling to Ashe. “It’s not like anyone notices the decor.”, she mumbled.

10 AM

She was not ready for daytime. The rhythm was incessant and brutal. What was taxing wasn’t the influx of bodies, the noise, the smell and the accumulating sweat, but the coordination to manage it all. The stimuli and stress were simply too much.

    “I apologize to whomever I offended in a previous life. This is garbage”, she thought as waves of panic rushed over her.

    The coffee and service had to be perfect. If her public reviews hit the gutter or someone was feeling snappy, she could get demoted or fired. Her employer had barely met her in person. All of the hiring process had been done online. Sacking an employee that was risking business was more than common practice, it was welcomed rigor amongst employers. Plenty of bodies lining up to man the stations. Making coffee for another human being, as it turns out, simply hadn’t been cut out for automation. Not for lack of trying.

    “Here’s your Americano. Have a great day”, Ashe smiled as she handed the 16th cup of coffee she had done that in less than 30 minutes.

    She had trouble keeping up. The coffee had to be good and the service had to be impeccable. As her energy and will wavered, a creeping thought appeared.

    “Oh dang. Do I still have AdrenaLines?”, she whispered. She excused herself from the counter for a brief second between customers and rushed into the backstore to sift through various containers.

    “Oh Christ. Thankyousomuch!”, Ashe genuinely prayed.

    She hastily masticated, broke down and swallowed every morsel of the golf ball-sized pill. The texture was unto bone meal, tasted all like chalk and was generally unpleasant to the average person. Ashe damned her brain however, because the aftereffects made the entire process such a rush to her system. She counted to three, took in a deep breath and she was off. Neuroreceptors firing at full force as the adrenaline started coursing through her veins. Snapping back to reality, she started hearing chatter from the front.

    “Anyone here…? Hello?!?”, a customer asked.

    “I’m coming. Here! Hello. Hi-yes-can-I take your order today?” she blurted out.

    “Ooooh. I remember this! One… filter to go, right?” She remembered the man’s order from the few times she’d done mornings in the past. “Amazing. Yes! Thank you so much!”. The man left satisfied, leaving an unusually large tip to reward her for being so attentive. He had barely noticed a change in her attitude.

    The rest of the morning blurred together as Ashe frantically took orders. The upside was that AdrenaLines were prohibitively expensive from over-the-counter use. Luckily, this coffee shop job had set her up a direct work account, as was becoming increasingly common in industries necessitating quick and repetitive human interaction. Downside was that she was going have a pretty unpleasant morning tomorrow. Her implants and CRISPRS were fine with mild adrenaline boosts. Not everyone had the luxury. It was her endocrine system that was still appalled by the experience and hated her for it. Over the next few days she’d have varying synaptic responses, cracks in her voice and if very unlucky: temporary diabetes.

    “This is fine. I can do this”, she hoped.

12 AM

The rush finally ended. The shop only serving coffee, on the minute lunch break started customers stopped pouring in frantically. Her nightmare was over. Ashe finally had a moment to spare and collect her thoughts. The effect of the AdrenaLines, sustaining themselves on metabolic nerve activity, began wearing off. As her stress diminished. everything came back into normal focus. Nevertheless, she continued serving regular coffee and drinks to the odd outside lunch-goer desiring a small drink with their food. The noon heat rushed through the door and Ashe noticed the city had starting spreading the midday scent. Today was lilac. It was soon after a familiar face walked in.

    “Hey you. How’s the high life? I heard you were barista-ing earlier from now on. You handling it alright?

    “First: Hi-iiii Jeremy. Second: fuck off and learn some grammar would you? What’s your order today?”, she replied playfully.

    “Mornings make you salty. Check your sleep CRISPR cause it’s obviously messing with your mood.”

    “No. Everything’s fine. New shift, new apartment, new audio implant. Really. What’ll you drink?”

    She was annoyed. Jeremy was nice, but he had the infuriating tendency to never stay on topic. Other customers could come in at any moment and she couldn’t be caught doing favoritism or idly chit-chatting.

    “Filter dark roast. Two sugars and one enriched milk.  Largest format you’ll have”, he informed her with child-like excitement.

    “Coming right up - How’s school these days?”, she inquired to pass the time. Her crankiness was rising proportionally to the AdrenaLines coming down.

    “It’s f-f-fine. I’m passing. I’m mediocrely averaging across every subject. If I keep this up I’ll likely graduate as the most average man to ever finish with a biochem masters ever.”

    “Oh same. Well… not really. I understand”, Ashe observed.

    For some bitter reason, she casually slipped some coffee grounds in Jeremy’s drink. She had no idea why, but it proved very cathartic in the moment.

    “Here’s your large filter, sir. May it serve your apprenticeship well”, she said with an old British accent.

    “Yeah. It was worth the detour. This place is nice and your coffee isn’t full-bad”, Jeremy thanked her.

    “Thank you for the compliment, sir. I also suggest you change majors because your english puns are the worst”, she answered back,

    “Bye Ashe. See you at Gita’s shindig later this week!” Jeremy hollered as he spinned around from the counter and out through the door.

    To her horror, Ashe then remembered she hadn’t texted her old roommate Gita or any of her friends in over six days. She only had been working, commuting and sleeping.

2 PM

After a sudden post-lunch streak of customers had come and gone, Ashe started to get peckish.  Then it her she had forgotten to bring her lunch, leaving her in a bit of a bind.

    “We don’t serve food. Heck. I  thought of everything up to this EXCEPT food?”, she dreadfully thought.

    She couldn’t afford yet the brand new hunger-reducing CRISPRs that made service jobs more tolerable. Not that it mattered in the long term. Being the only employee, she couldn’t leave or close down shop. She would have to improvise and go hunting in the backroom.

    After rummaging for a few minutes, hoping that no customers would walk in, leave and report her, she found quite the surprise.

    “Oh man. I thought these all expired and were now maybe… illegal for sale? Is that it?” she said to herself out loud. Her nerves were strained and hunger was getting to her. A stomach cramp echoed within her.

    She had discovered a box of meat protein pills. Probably one of the last batch ever shipped to stores and automated dispensaries, she figured.  The city had introduced a commercial ban on these in an attempt to boost the economy support the local algae and miscellaneous microbiome farmers.

    “Oooh you cow pills are going to save me, but first -”

    She rushed back to the front of the store, served a woman a latté and immediately checked the shop’s inventory on the local network. If the meat protein pills had been banned, the store might not track them anymore and she’d have a well-earned free lunch.

    “Oh… darn.”

    Ashe’s gut dropped from the news. They were still tracked. She’d have to pay for them or otherwise it’d be labeled as theft if a random inventory search detected any discrepancies. It was her first day on the new shift, so until she figured out the inventory management system, she’d have to make do. Resigned, she transferred money to her account (using the generous tip from earlier) and completed the required transactions. Lunch was mediocrely served.

    “One day, I’ll crime this place. Just you wait”, she muttered as she chomped down on the pills.

    “Wow. These taste like ass. Like poop from a demon.”

She took the opportunity to check the label again. They had expired a week ago.

5 PM

The day continued on. In hindsight this day had been much more eventful than most workdays in a long time. In the past she could have afforded to daydream and zone out into her work. Today had been nothing but rushes, fancy custom orders she hated making, stress and one “friend” she had been petty to for no rational reason. At that moment five blabbing female customers walked in, likely from the nearby offices, interrupting her impending self-loathing.

    “Hello ladies! What can I get you to help kickstart your evening?”

    The tallest and loudest in the front replied: “Oh! hmm. Soy lattes? Hows does that sound everybody?” The other women agreed almost instantly in awkward manner. Did they not know each other well? They all seemed to defer authority to the one doing the coffee order. Avoid her gaze, speaking almost exclusively her attributes or always checking for her approval. It was a tense situation and Ashe wanted this moment to be over as soon as possible.

    “You got it!“, she answered back. A few minutes of steam and froth later, she handed the piping hot cups to each of them single-handedly.

    “Bye precious!”, the tall woman said to Ashe, commanding to her flock to exit the coffee shop.

    After that bizarre occurrence, another customer walked into view, nearly avoiding the exiting ladies. He was exactly her type: same age (if not older), short and slim, stout build, light-dark skin, scruffy hair combed on the side. If he had an attitude to match, she was done for.

   “Hello! Nice night! What are you looking for?”, staring in embarrassment after realizing the total euphemism she’d slipped to a complete stranger.

   “Coffee would be nice? Flat white, but can you please add a layer of cinnamon in the middle?”

   “Nooooo problem. It’d be my pleasure.” Ashe kept smiling begrudgingly. She hated doing these type of specificities, but desperately wanted to learn more about him.

    Feeling inquisitive while doing his order, she asked: “Busy evening? Where are you heading?”. Ashe particularly wanted to know where he lived. Hopefully not too far from her.

   “Home! To the mountains. Done with the day shift ‘round here”, he casually replied to her.

   “Wait-what? Really? That’s almost 2 hour train from the edge of the city!”. Ashe understood this implied at least a 6 hour of transit a day.

   “You got it. Is the coffee almost done? I really gotta run to catch the train miss!”, he asked while tapping his foot.

   “Here’s your coffee. I mixed some cardamom with it. Hope you like it!” Ashe said, all smiles, teeth and flashing eyebrows at him.

    “Uh. Yeah… bye now!”. The man left, sympathetic but obviously unnerved by Ashe’s rather inelegant flirtation.

9 PM

The minute the clock hit nine, Ashe’s will started to fade. The day had been long. The night shift person would be here any minute. She started prepping, cleaning and packing for the evening. Night time customers were sporadic, so she had ample time to repack all the unused coffee and tools in the back with minutiae.

    She heard the bell on the door. A person walked in and her gut dropped. The smell overpowered the natural coffee odor of the entire place. A mix of wet socks, toenails and melted cheese that you could taste. The carrier of the odors were in horrible shape, literally. Crooked limbs bending oddly, patches of vivid colors tinting their hair and skin. They had trouble standing. Ashe only figured they had been mixing off-brand CRISPRs, alcohol and not eating at regular intervals. In the case of the latter, the genetic mods inside each CRISPR wouldn’t have the calories needed to transfer RNA chains correctly, leading to rather horrifying cell corruption.

    “G-g-ot any g-ff-food?”, they gurgled gutturally at Ashe.

    She didn’t know what to do. This was a person in need, probably living on the streets and exposed to who knows what. She hated the awkwardness and it was against store policy to give stuff away. All transactions were tracked to her ID during her shifts. Panicking, she threw some of her leftover meat protein pills at them, screaming: “HERE! PROTEIN! GO! AWAY!”

    While the pills flew in the air and landed, Ashe hid behind the counter. As she sat on the ground, she inadvertently triggered her distraction CRISPR. Farts flew in every direction, bringing no levity or solace to the situation. She had no clue on how to proceed or how to avoid getting hurt, but now also smelled like . She was full-time, but her training had been for coffee not haphazard social work.

    A few minutes passed. The door remained open, as she heard regular noise from the street. After a On all fours, she slowly revealed herself from behind the counter. At that exact moment, her replacement came in and stared her down.

    “What ARE you doing? What happened? Is the floor okay? Are YOU okay? Please say the milk frothers aren’t busted again.”, Burt asked.

    Ashe stood up, tried to regain some dignity and sighed despondently.

    “Heyyyy Burt. Yeah I’m fine. Someone came in begging and I couldn’t give them anything. Also today was shit… so I panicked?”

    “Yeah sure. That happens. They often come out at night. Most people without UV traits to care for their skin don’t make it far these days. Solar radiation messes you up long-term. ”, Burt replied with concern.

    “Tell me about it. I can barely keep up myself. Look… mind finishing? I’ll owe you one?”, she pleaded.

    “It’s fine, go. I’ve done double shifts. They’ll mess you up! Congrats on surviving, by the way.”

    “You’re the best, man!”. Ashe grabbed her things, scuffled Burt’s hair has she dashed for the exit and ran to the nearest metro station with glee.

11 PM

Ashe arrived home, threw her things and crashed into bed. She didn’t bother to either undress or eat. She was done. Today had been so bad she figured she would need at least 6 hours to fully function the next day. Her nervous system was twitching with regular pulses, which signified acute exhaustion. She turned over, touched her left index finger and after a moment  the world was drowned out once again by silence. Closing her eyes, she realized: tomorrow would be the same thing all over again. Same work, same pressure, same smells, people and pills.

The End