Shura Christakis

Transcendence

Oh no, I've got to get out of here before—

"Danae!"

Too late. The girl rolled her eyes before turning back around to face her mother. "What is it? I'm running late!"

"Well...I packed you lunch..." voiced her mother Lorena, slightly hesitant after hearing that response.

"N-No, thanks. I made my own." To demonstrate, Danae waved the bag in her hand. "Mom, we've told you many times, just let Dad and I handle the cooking, alright? I've really got to go now, love you, bye!"

And she sprinted out the door, as if running for her life.

Behind her, Lorena set the box she was holding on the table. She glanced at it, then sighed. Her problem was that she couldn't tell what her problem was. Her husband and daughter clearly didn't like her cooking, but Lorena herself couldn't tell what was wrong with it. In the end, they always made an escape whenever she tried to get them to eat something she cooked. Yes, they loved her whether or not she could cook like all the other mothers, but it still upset her so. More frustrating was the fact that, even when she followed every exact step of a recipe, it never turned out good—or even acceptable, according to her family.

Again, Lorena herself just couldn't tell what the problem was.

Now that her husband was at work and Danae had just left for school, the woman seated herself at the table, her chin in her hand. Could she really not cook? Why?

Simultaneously, somewhere not too far away, two doctors were having a long-awaited day off. The two men found themselves in a supermarket, shopping to cook together for the first time in a very long while.

One of them chuckled, more than slightly amused. "We could have slept in today, but look at us..."

"Habits," replied the other, shaking his head. "On the bright side, we've got a whole day ahead of us, free from work. Maybe we can indulge ourselves in...how about that?"

He turned to the fridge, and although there was an array of products lined up there, his partner knew exactly what he was referring to. They had waited long, after all, for a full day off. He laughed, then went to grab a bar of cream cheese. The couple finished their shopping soon and went back home. For the majority of the morning, they simply sat on their couch and discussed recent events at the hospitals—not that they never did so on a daily basis, but precisely because they had been so busy, the two barely had time to process all that's happened; alone, maybe, but not together.

"And Lorena is doing fine lately, right?"

"She's fine, yes."

The two sat there for an awkward minute then, wondering if they should mention something they had always wanted but dared not to out of fear of being ostracized.

"So...this is going to sound crazy, but—"

In the end, both men started speaking at the same time, then stopped at the same word. They exchanged a glance, and both laughed.

Shura opened his eyes to find himself at the counter of a drugstore.

So this is my setting...I see. What a morbid choice, god of destiny. Are you trying to mock me? Will this whole third life be a tragedy?

Others spent years to get a qualification allowing them to open a drugstore; Shura simply woke up and found out that this would be his job for...however long his fate wanted him to. Before him on the counter was a pair of glasses. He put them on.

Thirty minutes of normal operation later, two men peered into his store from just outside the glass door. He recognized them immediately, and when their eyes met, all questions he had held about them answered themselves.