A Grimm Mistake

So many souls, I think, so little time. I’ve worked myself to the bone for nearly seven centuries, give or take a few decades. And in all that time, I’ve never had a break. So naturally, I thought I’d give myself the holiday season to relax and live a little. Well, as much as the Grim Reaper can live.

“Coffee for Jim,” the barista calls, looking around the quietly buzzing café.

“You mean Grimm?” I correct. I rise from the wicker chair by the corner and stride towards the counter. Here we go again. Despite me being right in front of him, he continues to look around for the owner of the beverage. As I reach for the brown takeaway cup, he slides it away, looking up suddenly as if only seeing me now.

“Oh! I’m sorry sir, but this doesn’t seem to be your order. This is for Jim,” he raises the cup and runs his finger under the name scribbled in black sharpie, “See?” He calls the name again, this time attracting more attention from the other customers in the café, “Jim! Coffee for Jim!”

“It’s an extra hot, triple ristretto, right?” I ask. He nods hesitantly in response. I continue, “that’s what I ordered. So, that must be my coffee.”

“Oh, come on Roscoe, give the boy a break,” a voice interrupts. My head swivels to see an older woman approaching, her hair holding onto the last bit of natural colour like a Dalmatian clinging to its spots.

Roscoe looks me up and down, an artificial smile resting on his cheeks. He leaves my coffee on the counter and shoots me a sharp look, scuttling behind the register before I can scold him within an inch of his life. Oh, don’t worry, your time will come Roscoe. Your time will come!

I snatch my morning dose of caffeine before something else can keep me from my coffee. A rustic aroma bellows from the hole in the plastic lid, wafting through my nose and lightly fogging my glasses. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath before sipping on the mouth-melting brew. Just how I like it. As terrible as humans can be, coffee is one of their few saving graces. Caught in a moment of euphoria, I almost don’t notice the older woman still standing in front of me.

“My goodness, you and your coffee,” she remarks, resting her hands on her hips and shaking her head gingerly. “At least it’s not drugs or alcohol… or anything worse.”

“Well,” I reply, wiping my lip with my thumb, “caffeine is considered a central nervous system stimulant, so it’s still technically a drug.” Why I’m entertaining this woman? I have no idea.

“Enough with all that fancy-schmancy talk. Give us a hug!” Without hesitation, she throws her arms around my shoulders, my back stooping down to meet her height. Confused and shocked, I manage to keep us from being doused with scolding-hot coffee as she squeezes me as tight as she can. “We’ve missed you so much.” After a moment, she releases her grip and rubs my arm warmly. What an… odd feeling.

“Uhm… we?” I blurt out. Her gentle smile still resting on her cheeks, momentarily distracting me from my bewilderment. My brain scrambles to piece together the little information I have, wondering what peculiar situation I’ve found myself in.

“Surely that big-city corporate job can’t make you forget about us. I’m sorry if I ruined the surprise, but I was really hoping you’d come down to visit this year. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to act surprised in front of your father.”

Oh crap.