Short Story "Coffee Club"

Title: Coffee Club

Series: -

Soundtrack: -

Spoilers: -

Time frame: -

Summary: What if you really looked at the person in front of you. No, really, really noticed them. What could you not learn?

Excerpt: “So many creatures, so many personalities all unique in their own way. None of them multiplied, ever. ”

Pairings: -

Word count: ~1100

Rating: K (original)

Warning:

Other:

Thanks: To my regular café that inspired this short story. Thanks to Frank Herbert that first used the term "singular multiplicity".

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She always stirs her latte several times, anti-clockwise, before she sips it. Not like other people, whisking it around. No, she keeps the back of her spoon firmly pressed against the insides of the cup and then she carefully moves it along the edge. As if not to disturb the foam.

I don't understand this. I find it quite disturbing, to the point of annoyance, sometimes. What is the point of stirring, if not to make the foam integrate into the coffee? If you don't want it to mix then don't stir it, it's simple.

As I keep watching her stir, as I have watched her millions of times, I suddenly have an epiphany. I can see the spoon moving through the fluffy edge of the foam, detaching it from the edge and isolating it until it forms a perfect round cloud in the middle of the cup, and I realise that instead of being strange, she is ingenious.

She is beautifully clever and I have not seen it until now.

By stirring the latte in her own unique way she makes the clingy foam release from the insides of the cup and form a perfect lid on top of the coffee. Then, when you drink it, you will get the coffee underneath first, into your mouth and then a piece of foam to round it off. Obviously, the taste of the coffee will be slightly stronger, but smoother and rounder. Just the way she likes it. Not to mention the fact that the foam-lid stays intact the entire time, trapping the aroma and heat of the coffee.

By the simple gesture of her unique way of stirring, she always ends up with a delicious coffee, just in her taste.

I am mute. Why have I never seen it before?

I can only stare at her, across the table, and wonder when she became so clever. It makes me wonder if she is this meticulous in the rest of her daily habits too. Suddenly I see her in a completely new light. I feel as if something has unlocked inside me and shown me something that few people are allowed to experience. 


I cannot take my eyes off her.

Now every single movement she makes seem significant. The timbre of her voice, the gesture of her hands, the look in her eyes. Everything is important. Everything is new. The small freckle she has close to her ear, the little brown spot she has in one eye but not the other, how one of her front teeth are not perfectly straight. She is a new being to me, one I have a deep desire to uncover. Terra Incognita in its veritable form. My wish to explore is filling my heart to the brim and I cannot wait to start. Then violently, a thought strikes me.

Maybe, maybe this is how every being in this world is.

Fascinating.

Mesmerising.

Luminous.

A staggering feeling envelops me as I slowly absorb the idea and start to understand the singular multiplicity of this Universe. Darkness folds over my eyes and small gleaming lights appear, each one a person, a being in this world. They accumulate and spread until they look like stars in an endless space. So many creatures, so many personalities, all unique in their own way. None of them multiplied, ever. Always new. All ready to be explored.

I feel like I am balancing on the edge of this void, looking out. A vertiginous rush comes over me of the endless, unimaginable possibilities of this World. No, this Universe.

It it exquisite.

It is astonishing.

It is terrifying.

I close my eyes in sheer panic to block out the sight and not until I hear her soft lingering voice do I realise that I have also held my breath in fear.

“Are you alright?” She leans over with a frown between her brows.

“Yes, yes...I am...fine” I pry open my eyes and focus on regaining my stable breathing, however the lingering feeling of panic is still there, clenching my heart.

She gently pushes her latte towards me.

“Here...” her voice is soft and tender and I look up inquisitively.

“You can stir it...”

“...it always helps me...”

Still lost in my staggering experience I take the spoon and start randomly whisking the latte, but she impatiently puts her hand over mine.

“No, not like that...like this” and she moves my hand to stir it in the way she usually does it. She doesn't let go until I do it perfectly.

Strangely enough it is a vexingly soothing sensation and the cramps in my chest seems to just melt away with each stir.

“See...much better, right?” I look into her eyes and it strikes me, hard in the guts, that she knows exactly what she is talking about. For in her eyes I can see it. She has been there too.

She has also stood at the ragged, sharp edge of endless possibilities.

I draw a shaky breath as I keep stirring manically. I suddenly feel like I have aged a thousand years.

Yet, I realise, I am far, far, far behind her.

In her eyes I see countless upon countless of eternal voids. The very thought of just re-experiencing one of them again makes me nauseous.

Yet, she has overcome them all.

She has stood there time and time again staring into the abyss, seeing it stare back. In this place where nothing shields you, nothing protects you. Naked, bared, exposed.

Yet, here she is, sitting in front of me looking at me with those illuminated eyes, stirring her latte in her own peculiar way.

Yes, in these few minutes she has changed so much, in my mind. She is radiant. I feel a deep honour to have met her.

The the moment is over and she rises to leave. I follow.

As we exit the café, we are greeted by a sharp gust, heralding a crispily cold autumn day. The wind clears my head until I think it was all a hallucination, a figment of my overexcited mind.

Then, before we part ways she leans over and whispers into my ear, something that brings me right back.

“The secret...is that when the void looks at you, you just stare right back at it...” and then she is gone as fast as she came, leaving a light cloud of vanilla scent as only proof of her existence.

Folding up the collar of my woollen coat, I secretly promise myself that next time, next time I will also stir my latte like her.

Counter-clockwise, with the back of my spoon firmly pressed to the insides of the cup.