a.u.

Chapter Three: Montage

Thursday.

Damian was never good at many things, but the one thing he could confidently say he never did was back down from a challenge.

And this was the challenge of a lifetime.

Standing on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop again, his legs shook with some kind of mix of excitement and trepidation. Two times in a row would be bizarre, but three? Three times in a row would be something out of this world.

The shop was the same in the inside as it had been all week. Soft, yellow. A couple people sitting along the perimeter of the shop. A young barista wearing a collared shirt with a dark apron overtop, tired eyes staring through stylish frames. Damian would've been stupid to try and go in there a third time. And yet.

He swung open the doors for round three. He checked his phone as he stepped inside. 8:31. It was later today, a conscious move on Damian's part.

Today he moved with gusto up to the front counter. The barista, with a name badge that still read Alex, didn't seem to take much notice.

"Uh, hi," he started, voice wavering between anxious and forceful. "Can I just get a small coffee please?"

"Na--"

"Damian. With two a's."

The two completed their exchange, following the standard customer/employee script. Damian watched another dollar fifty leave his wallet, probably to never return again. It was alright, though, it was a small price to pay for this unorthodox experiment.

The order was quickly filled in the next minute. Damian was beginning to memorize the layout behind the counter and follow every step along the way. Not that it was particularly interesting or unusual at least.

Sure enough, once Alex had finished, he read the name loud enough to fill up all the empty spaces in the room. Damian nodded sheepishly as he took the drink from his hand.

He sat in a different spot this time. Today, he opted to fill one of the high seats up against the window. The table itself wasn't very deep. He couldn't even fit his elbows on it. But he could fit his cup on it, and he could probably fit a small laptop on it if he wanted. I was a perfect fit for the yuppy atmosphere he was slowly growing to detest.

He ventured to look at his name once more.

Daamien.

Hilarious.

He checked his phone again. 8:33.

This time he left it on the countertop, watching the minutes as they passed by.

8:34. Nothing.

8:35. Nothing.

8:36--

Something.

Damian felt his chair squeak as something moved from under him. He waited a moment to make sure this was what he thought it was.

The ground started to rumble, almost as if on cue.

Damian wasn't going to waste time this go around. He stood up from his chair almost immediately and made his way toward the exit, opting to leave this coffee on the countertop just against the window. He didn't bother looking for Alex the barista or the other patrons this time. He let his flight response run the show as he pushed both hands hard against the push bar, and then--

Damian stood on the sidewalk. The one where the buildings eagerly sat right up against it. Directly outside the coffee shop. The walkways hummed with the light murmur of an early Thursday morning. The streets were busy with rush hour traffic.The ground remained static under his feet. Everything was still.