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Deja Vu - part8Garfield Logan
Raven was gone and I wasn't sure what to do, I changed into a bird while everyone started to freak out again and flew out the roof to follow Raven. I was flying over the streets and wondered where Raven went. I figured it would be best to start towards her house. As I flew I noticed a purple jeep speeding through the streets. It arrived at Raven's house just as I did; Jinx got out and rubbed her arms.
I landed next to her and changed human. The air here was unnaturally cold so we knew Raven had to have been here. Jinx rushed up to the front door and pulled out a key from the plant bowl. She brushed the dirt off and opened the door. The house was cold but not unnaturally so.
"She didn't come in." Jinx walked farther into the house. "What happened?" she asked looking clueless.
I sat there and took thirty minutes explaining how I followed Raven, ended up in a closet with her, and
Deja Vu - part7Garfield Logan
I stepped into the closet and the door closed behind me. With my really good animal hearing I heard snickering through the door. People were placing bets on how beat up I would come out looking. They all thought I was a mindless guy who would try something on her, and they obviously knew Raven well enough to know she was dominating.
"What are you doing here?!" She scolded while still keeping her voice just above a whisper.
"Well " I stuttered and stumbled over my words. How did Raven always manage to get me tongue tied? "I was following you. To make sure you were safe though!! And I was going to leave but then I found you, and we started playing 7 minutes in heaven, and I couldn't find a good opening to get away."
Raven let me continue blabbering for a while before she started rubbing her head, as if she had a head ache or a migraine.
Then we both
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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