FFF335 Out of Orbit @flashfictionfridayofficial
Story based on @writing-prompt-s post from Aug 19, 2023:
You run a cafe on the edge of life and death. Souls who have been departed from their bodies temporarily, such as in comas or near-death experiences, can relax in your quaint cafe for as long as they need before they can either return to their bodies or begin their journey to the afterlife.
A/N- This one got away from me a little bit... But it's an idea I've been tinkering with in my brain for two years now and it felt the most right for this FFF prompt. Even if it's not perfect.
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People often described your cafe as “homely” or “out of the way” or “out of their orbit.” No one ever stayed long, due to the transitory nature of your domain. Either Life, exuberant and joyful, full of sparkle and shine, reclaimed them and they went back to their loved ones, or Death came, hooded and scythed, and ushered them off into the What’s Next.
Both spent time in your cafe outside of work, too. You knew both well, how Life was always coming up with new ideas and harebrained schemes, while Death was chronically behind the times. He was quiet, the peace and calm of the funeral, while she was the ebullient, loud, frenetic one who wanted everyone to be her best friend. Spending time with them was as much fun as hearing from your patrons.
They often talked about their families and friends, what they were proud of their grandkids for or disappointed in their children about. They would complain about work or share the latest gossip about celebrities and influencers. The ones who always made you cry a little were the ones who came in ecstatic about being able to walk, or having both arms, or being able to speak normally, or were crying from relief about not having pain.
Sometimes, Life came to take them back, and they would break down in ugly sobs about how they didn’t want to go. She would always sit with them and let them cry, then, when they were quiet, she’d remind them of all the joys that made life worth living, and they would begin to come around.
When Death came to claim the infirm, they would always smile sadly at him. They’d talk about how, as good as it was to not be in pain anymore, they wished they had one more memory with their loved ones, one moment to say goodbye. He would always nod and say the same thing: “It is always important to love like it’s the last chance. You don’t get a second one.” They would take his hand and walk with him out of the cafe onto his horse and ride away. Rarely they’d put up a fight, or try to run, and he’d let them. You once asked him why, and he simply said, “where will they go?” He always did find them, in the end.
Sometimes, people would come up to you and thank you before they went with their escort. Mostly they didn’t, but every time they did, you would smile at them and nod, sending them with another cup of their favorite beverage for the road. Some asked your name, and you would always reply that you were “just the manager,” and smile. Then, as they left, they’d notice the clock over the door as it started to tick again, and they’d realize the cafe had been silent the whole time. They would turn back to you, eyes wide. “Thank you for the time,” they’d say, and you’d nod again, happy you were able to grant them whatever time they needed to move on. Time waits for no one, but sometimes, you wait with them.
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