The Death Date

chapter six

A girl around my age was waiting outside the front door of The Morning Grind when I arrived. Though it was still dark, I could make out a long, brunette braid and wide, animated eyes underneath the dull glow of the overhead streetlights. Not many people could look so awake this early in the morning.

I shuttered to a stop and braced myself because once I took another step, the air would charge and her death date would be mine.

"Hey," she greeted pleasantly with a slight twang. Her mouth was small but full and lifted in a genuine smile.

Deciding to get it over with, I crept closer and the surging sensation of current swarmed through me. The space between us grew alive with energy.

December twenty ninth, two thousand and eighty-nine.

My captive breath released along with the swelling electricity. It was a small comfort the last few death dates I had received were far in the future.

"Hi," I said.

"I'm Meghan," the new girl chirped and lifted her hand in a small wave. "And really early."

"Cordelia. You can call me Delia." Pulling out my keys, I unlocked the door and let us both inside. "I'm actually surprised Jackie's not here yet. I swear she sleeps here most nights."

"The assistant manager?" Meghan asked.

"Yeah, she's a chipper one. I'm normally here about ten til, and she's usually got the place up and running by then."

"No wonder Phoebe raves about her so much," Meghan stated. "That's dedication."

"She wants her own store," I said as we emerged into the dark expanse of the shop. The register, bar area, and tables and chairs were a backdrop of shadows.

"Oh, so that's the reason for her sleepovers."

I laughed lightly and stopped near the counter. "She's a good assistant manager. You'll like her." Meghan leaned an elbow on the counter, and I continued, "So, Jackie said you trained for two weeks on bar?"

"Yeah, I think I made about a million and half coffees."

I balanced on my tiptoes and flipped the light switch attached to the inside wall beside the register. "Get ready to make a million more today. The morning shift is crazy."

Meghan cracked her knuckles. "Bring it on."

A few hours later, Meghan's braid had lost some of its tightly wound pieces, and a few coffee stains dribbled down my apron, but the two of us had managed to successfully wo-"man" the bar during the busiest hours of the morning. Phoebe had been right: Meghan was a quick learner and a natural barista. After walking her through the morning routine to get the store prepared and answering a few questions she had, she took her place behind the bar like she belonged there, and it was soon evident she did.

The morning rush had ended. A dreamlike lull settled inside the shop while those of us behind the counter stole a collective sigh. It was my favorite moment during the morning shift. There was something incredibly satisfying about working at lighting speed and then getting a few moments to catch your breath – almost like the first inhale after being submerged under water.

Jackie and Johnathan were chatting at the registers. Johnathan pointed to the tip jar, which was brimming with folded dollar bills, and said something to make Jackie laugh. Her braids swayed with the motion.

"So, how long have you been working here?" Meghan asked as she emptied a doser of compressed coffee grounds.

"About nine months."