Torn Souls

7. Goodnight, Moon

George's eyes slowly blinked open, adjusting to the harsh morning light. He didn't remember being in his bedroom when he fell asleep. Golden rays streaked through the window. He couldn't remember if last night was a dream. And if it was, what it was about. Everything felt hazy, the way you try to remember events from a previous night during a hangover. Did a beautiful creature actually kiss his forehead or was that a dream?

His cozy bed didn't want him to leave. The blanket wrapped around him comfortably, restraining his will to move. Yesterday's events came rushing over him as he stood. The memories stopped around eleven o'clock. That was just a hallucination. There was no boy in here. Ghosts aren't real. Maybe he was really going crazy. Maybe his mind was slipping to the deep end except he didn't know how to swim. Still he froze, it felt too real. The memory was just a little too vivid. George crept to the door, quickly pulling it open, as if he would catch the boy in his hallucinations in the middle of his appartment. Of course, there was no one there. The apartment was empty, no one but George and the sunlight of the early morning. The plants seemed more vibrant than the previous day, it's green leaves shining and full, almost looking plastic and fake.

In the kitchen, there was a glass half filled with water. Instead of being clear, the water was clouded with the reminence of something that was there, but George didn't know what. The fridge was mostly empty, but in the middle of the shelf stood an unopened monster. He couldn't quite remember where it came from, maybe he made a late night trip to the store. He shrugged as he picked up the can. He needed the caffeine, it was really too early to think (it was only seven am). He walked back into his plain, boring room and over to the wardrobe. He pulled on his ripped black jeans and a mocha colored tee shirt with the cafe's logo. He finished getting ready and slipped on his shoes and coat. As much as he wanted to stay in the warmth of his apartment, he slipped out into the cold, but sunny, morning.

The cafe was freezing, it hadn't been open since last night. Locking the door back behind him, George turned the soft lights and the heater, slipping on a soft brown apron that had been dusted with four. After starting the machines, he pulles the chairs from the tables, flipping them so they stand on their legs. After, he unlocks the door, changing the sign to say 'open' instead of 'closed' to welcome customers. The cafe filled with early-risers, he wondered how someone would willingly be up and out of the comfort of their home before nine thirty on a Saturday morning. When the morning progressed into the afternoon, the small cafe began to fill up. With each ring of the bell, he glanced up, hoping any other coworker would come in just to help. However, much to his luck, no one did. He took a deep breath and found a pattern of movement. Take 5 orders, finish 5 orders, repeat. He was thankful for the baked goods he decided to make the night prior.

"Oh my god. Could he go any slower?" The downside of working with people was the inconsiderate ones. Being the only staff in the building, he indeed could not go any faster. Putting on the best smile he could muster up, he was still so, so kind.

"Hello! What can I get for you?" George hoped his voice hid the aggravation and stress.

The customer rolled their eyes. Do it again. Maybe you'll find a brain. "Depends, are you going to take forever, because I have somewhere to be." They spat out. A wave of guilt washed over George, he didn't know why. He knew it wasn't his fault.

"Sorry about that. Uhm I- I'm the only one working right now." He so desperately wished anyone would walk in, so he had help.

"I didn't ask. Just hurry up." The customer gave George their order, then he took the next four as well. As he turned to the machines, he looked down to the floor. A white rose petal fell before him, landing softly on the ground. Odd. The carmel and chocolate syrups mixed with the coffee and creams, leaving swirls that looked like polished marble. He smiled in satisfaction as he handed the drinks to the customers. Looking over the shoulder of the next, George saw karma play out. The rude customer tripped, like someone tripped them. Except no one was there, making them look even more foolish.