the cafe of stars(wip)
The Cafe of Stars serves starlight. You can order pastries or drinks infused with it, or drink it pure straight from a wine glass. Drinking starlight in its original state, like liquid gold, is the best way it is consumed. The Cafe of Stars is a cafe of the past. Of memories, old love, mistakes. People go there to remember, to reminisce, to regret.
The cafe was dark that night, but dotted with mason jars with star fairy lights inside, and a white neon sign with the words “turn your scars into stars” in a hardwritten script on a brick wall. The jazzy slow tune of “Stars Fell on Alabama” floated in the background. The aroma of freshly brewed black coffee and buttery biscuits right out of the oven hung in the air. The tables inside the cafe are full as always, yet the cafe never seemed to be crowded.
The two baristas stood there, brewing coffee and pouring starlight. Michael, the taller one, carefully mixed and measured each ingrediunt, as if he was creating a work of art. Gabriel made the drinks more monotously; he did not find much pleasure in serving starlight, and had become accustomed to the patterned pouring.
They stood there, handing new customers drinks, and occasionally walking over and hand customers their receipts.
The two stood there, watching the strange assortment of people, from the young girl with cuts crisscrossing her marble arms shakily holding a white mug, to the old man who reads by the crackling fireplace with a beer in his hand.
“I wonder what it is like to die,” Gabriel mused.
“I would like it.” Michael said.
“It seems tragic to me. I would not like to die.”
“Do you like working in our cafe?” Michael abruptly asked.
“I do not mind it.”
“I do. Every day and night, we are serving people who need our cafe. We serve starlight, the drink of dreams, to people who no longer dream and can only remember.”
“Michael, we are serving the dead.”
“Who understand the nature of life more than we ever will.”
“I would not like to be a human. It does not seem like a pleasant thing to be.”
“I would rather be human than an angel.”
“Why? Humans are such cruel, damaged creatures. All they do is destroy each other and themselves.”
“Gabriel, do you see that elderly woman sitting in the corner over there? Her life was spent gardening flowers for her community garden, and reading to children with cancer. Now she sits there, drinking her tea quietly, and always gives a gentle smile to a new child visitor.”
“There are exceptions.”
“Do you like being immortal?”
“I do not mind it,” Gabriel said again.
“It can be quite exhausting. I would like a fresh start. Like that man over there.”
Michael nodded towards a bearded man, with dark circles under his eyes, who slightly glowed as he finished his last drops of starlight. Michael walked over to him and hands the man the receipt. The man nodded, smiles, satisfied with the letters of his fate printed onto the reciept. He left the café, onto his next life.
“Humans can be such beautiful creatures.” Michael sighed as he returned behind the counter. “They think they can change the world. Reverse the past. Create a better future. I envy them. They have hope, and love. It would be lovely to think that the universe was at the tips of my fingers.”
“I do not. It is foolish to think that the earth revolves you.”
“We, the immortal, are weighted by the ugly truths. To live a life, although clouded by evil nature, but filled with kindness and happy moments, and unknowing of the even darker natures of the world, is a life I would like to live.”
Gabriel stopped polishing the glasses, and set his towel down. “Our shifts are over.”
“You go. I would like to stay.”
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
Gabriel hurried away, and Michael sighed, setting his towel on the countertop.
He put his apron onto a silver hook, and stepped behind and in front of the counter. He looked around, and walked towards a roughly carved mahogany table by the windows.
He sat down. A clear milk glass appeared before him, reflecting the shimmery, golden liquid onto the table, shards of light gently glowing. He drank, and drank. As he set down the glass, to his surprise, a receipt appears before him.
″Michael. Cause of Death: Drowning. Next Life: To Be Determined.”
Another star twinkles in the night sky.