Mac

The evening breeze bit me hard and I resisted the urge to shiver. Instead I tightened my scarf and quickened my pace. The crunch of my feet against dried leaves brought a strange yet somewhat charming sense of satisfaction.

There was no true need to put myself through the trouble of going to a cafe instead of summoning a drink out of thin air. I could ask Dennis to do it, if I was really that lazy. But there was more to life than the destination. If that wasn’t the case, nothing in between birth and death would matter.

In truth, I just wanted to take some time off of my duties to relax. To do something traditional among the mortals. Which was why I disguised myself as one today. Remove everything defining me as Summer. My dark hair had been tied back into a ponytail. I wore a green coat. To the human eye, I looked like nothing more than one of them. An escape from fame, I supposed.

I opened the door, immediately letting out a gust of warm air. I soaked in the feeling as the air warmed my bones but quickly shut the door. I heard quiet voices all around. But here, sounds echoed. From the ceiling, small lights hung. They glowed halo, reminding me of Peanut. Almost everything was made from wood — dark wood to be exact, but whoever designed this lovely place wasn’t picky.

I pulled up a tall stool at the front counter and sat down, smoothing back my hair with my fingers. “Hi,” I told the lady standing behind it, settling into my seat. Surprisingly, or maybe not, the chair didn’t screech on the wooden floor.

“Good evening,” the barista replied. “What would you like to order?”

My eyes darted to the menu. It was hand drawn on a chalkboard, which was hanging from a nearby wall. “An oak milk latte, please.” There was very little activity, so any movement, any sound, brought me to my senses.

“Of course, ma’am,” she said. She disappeared behind a curtain, presumably to alert someone. I patiently remained in my seat and emptied my mind of all thoughts.

It was then that I felt the strangest sensation.

Not power, necessarily, but powerful. Strength. It wasn’t the kind I knew from Strawberia and Elias, but almost magic. Like from a being.

I’d just felt that now. So, I turned to the door, figuring it was the most likely source. I was right. There was a young man just entering, about the age I appeared as right now. His hair was the color of mine. As he walked, I felt the feeling shifting closer. Were beings like this all the time? Were they, and did I not notice because I was in my true form too?

He wore a tight black jacket, and a tough but relaxed look on his face, like he was taking his time to be here too. I daresay he looked nice. I daresay he looked *cute*. But I couldn’t lose sense. Who was he?

The barista returned with my drink. She set it down on the counter and gave a quick nod to me.

“Thank you,” I told her. She smiled and nodded again; then her gaze shifted to that man. It was only a matter of time before that happened.

I took a small sip out of my drink. I felt at ease again, the mood I’d been hoping for before I’d come. The sound of feet tapped against the wooden floor and I turned to see him approaching the seat directly next to mine. Because of his strange aura, I didn’t dare read his mind in case somehow he knew. “Hey,” he greeted me.

I was a little wary, but I answered, “Hey. What’s your name?”

I thought I saw him hesitate, but what he said next wasn’t a lie. “Mac. You?”

“Brinn.” I couldn’t go around introducing mortal me as Summer.

We didn’t speak as he placed his order. After the lady left, I thought to start up a conversation, to get to know who he really was. “How’s your day been?”

“Fine,” he said shortly. “On a day like this, there isn’t anything special to suspect.”

I nodded. We were quiet until he added, “You?”

“Same thing, honestly,” I answered.

His drink arrived. Keeping his hand on it, he clinked it against mine. “Cheers.”

I awkwardly removed the straw from my mouth. “Cheers.”

He snorted. “You’re an odd one.”

“I’m the odd one?”

“I couldn’t call myself that.” He smiled.

“Okay.” I tried to recall what we were talking about before. “Did you go to work today?”

He hesitated for real this time. “No — it’s not important.” I could tell that was a lie, but I didn’t press him. It crossed my mind that I could just read the future, but I truly didn’t want that. I wanted an adventure. A being older than me would likely reprimand me, call me foolish, but I didn’t care.

We chatted but didn’t throw away our words too quickly. His manner of speech felt a little odd at times, but he seemed friendly enough. I wanted to know him better.

Some time later, he told me that he’d better get going, then told me the name of the apartment he lived in.

“I live kind of near there,” I told him, which wasn’t technically a lie. My temple was close by. “We can go together, if you want. It’s dark out, you know.”

He gave me a quizzical look and I worried I’d taken things too far. For the first time this evening, the temptations overtook me and I peeked into his mind. What I found was this: *She likes me, probably. It worried me that he might have been right. I might too, but hard to tell.*

Still, he agreed and we went. I spent most of the walk thinking, no longer paying attention to the scenery from earlier. I looked into his mind a bit.

*Well, she wasn’t wrong about the darkness.*

*This is going too fast — like, I have to ask if we can meet again sometime or something because I don’t even know her last name or who she is.*

When I had retreated into my own thoughts, no longer bothering to think about his, he broke the silence. Immediately, his voice had a touch of nervousness in it, like he was about to confess. I thought it was going to be the meet-up thing, but it was actually unrelated. “I’ll tell you what I really do for a living, but you don’t have to like it.”

“Okay,” I answered tersely.

“I scoop out peoples’ organs. Um. And sell them, so I can earn a living.” He raised a hand like he was motioning to something, but there was nothing. “For stuff like this apartment we’re headed to right now. My real name is Pooper Scooper Mac.” All the truth.

“Who are those people you scoop organs out of?” Who it is might matter.

“The good ones — no, that sounded weird. Ones who deserve it. Ones with fine ones.”

I asked, “Is that where your aura comes from?”

He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I just feel like you kind of radiate power if that makes any sense.”

“Well,” he responded, “I don’t take their organs for myself. I take their lives and years.”

I could see his apartment building up ahead. Before he left, I knew I had to ask him something. To meet up again, for similar reasons why he wanted to ask me. That’s what I convinced myself. “Look, this organ thing is tricky business. But you’re doing it for something worthwhile enough, and I don’t want to judge you yet. Let’s meet again sometime,” I told him, “and if I think it’s worth it I’ll turn you immortal for real.”