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The ChaseDay broke over the city. The sky was a golden shade of yellow, and the streets were empty. The scene wass picturesque and all was tranquil. Suddenly, the silence was broken. Shots rang out over the hill. A mysterious man in a leather jacket and a gleaming pair of aviators ran down the street. He didn't stop and didn't look back. He knew that if he stopped for one second, he would surely perish.
The man's hair, long and dark, flowed in the wind like a flag. A flag that would soon be at half-mast if he didn't keep running. His heart was beating heavily and his muscled were so strained that he felt like they could tear apart his already-shredded blue jeans. He saw a car behind him, out of the corner of his eye, an unmarked black van driven by a man in a black suit and eye-masking sunglasses.
"There are hundreds of them," he thought, "and they're all coming for me. But why? What have I done?" Nevertheless, shots rang out, constantly getting louder behind him. One of the shots struck the ta
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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