Eternal Grind

Madison stared at him from behind the espresso machine. This coffee shop had plenty of interesting customers due to its location, but few of them made the presence in the room change the way he did. He stood at the register ordering his coffee, the barista serving him stumbling over her words, face flushed. She had spoken with "Tom" at the register enough times to get a good look at his face. His scarlet hair was combed back and well kept, his green eyes piercing hers, rarely breaking eye contact with her when talking. His smile is devilish, perfect white teeth seeming almost fang like. Tall and slender, he moved elegantly. His well-tailored suit fitting him in all the right places. Most the girls she has worked with here swoon at the sight of him and most of them make fools of themselves whenever they're in his presence. He never seems to be more than mildly amused with their attempts to ask him out and rarely takes them up on it. Tom would usually pick up his order from the end of the counter, then retreat to be found in the corner armchair, one long leg crossed over the other with his "name brand" sunglasses propped on his head and some dusty looking book in his hand.

He would also make a habit of watching Madison. Sometimes nonchalantly peering over his book, looking away before he could be caught by others. Other times, staring boldly at her, a smirk crossing his face when she'd glare at him.

After a month and a half of this same routine he stands up, the movement almost too fluid to seem real. He closes his book softly and set it down on the chair before he steps toward the counter. He clears his throat gently to grab her attention. Madison sighed, rolling her eyes before turning to him and giving him a customer service smile.

"What can I do for you, Tom?" She asked, not knowing how to feel about the way he was looking at her. His eyes twinkling with promised mischief. He placed his hands on the counter and leaned closer to her. She noticed for the first time how toned his fore arms were and how his hands seemed strong when they normally just appeared to be nimble and slender. She also noted the tiny scars on his hands. He drew a shallow breath before speaking.

"I was wondering if I could ask you to accompany me for dinner?" His voice was smooth, the kind of whisper that could convince the most chaste woman of submitting to his will. The smirk that lingered on his face proved that he knew what he could accomplish. The Barista working with Madison turned as soon as she heard Tom speaking, glaring at the back of Madison's head.

Her eyebrow cocked in confusion. After turning down all the advances of her coworkers, Madison was left wondering why he chose this moment to ask HER on a date. Why did he ask at all? What is he playing at? She crouched down to check the stock in the fridge that she was standing next to, she was still at work after all, and she needed to collect her thoughts.

What do I tell him? She thought. Surely I can't answer him here… Becky is setting my head on fire with her intense staring. I'd never hear the end of it.

She stood up. Ready to deliver a firm and resounding NO, but Tom was back in his seat, reading his book. She began to wonder If she had imagined the whole thing, but the fact that Becky wouldn't speak to her the rest of their shift told her it really had happened. The rest of the evening was uneventful. A few more customers came and went, Tom left an hour before close. As Madison walked through the lobby, intent on locking the door and going home, she stopped by the suede armchair that Tom occupied during his visits. On the seat cushion sat a dusty old book. Tom's book. The corners were rounded and worn, the leather beginning to turn grey with a tan undertone of what once was surely a marvelous, rich mahogany color. It had tarnished brass embellishments with beautifully crafted engravings all over. There was no title on the cover, but there were odd looking symbols all along the spine.

"This thing looks ancient… and these symbols look like something out of Lord of the Rings." She muttered under her breath, picking up the book and holding it in her hands. A paper was hidden under the tome, with a phone number on it and a smiley face. She huffed as she tucked the book under arm and firmly locked the door.

"That cheeky bastard."

*****

Her keys clattered as she swung the door open into her apartment. "Salem, I'm home." She called out as she hung her bag and keys on their designated hooks. The hallway leading into her living space was tidy and organized. All her things in this area had a place. A reason for being.

She flipped on the light in her living room. Unlike the hallway, her living room was a war zone. She was surrounded by books, boxes, and files that had been scattered all over. It often reminded her of the offices in crime shows. The chaos as they were searching for their suspect. This is what decades of research does to someone. Clutter as far as the eye can see. She sighed, staring at the overwhelming mess. She felt soft fur against her barefoot followed by soft purring.

"Hey." She whispered as she crouched down and stroked the ink-colored cat, she shared her massive apartment with. Her only companion. She came across him two years ago when she first moved to the DC area. She scratched under his chin, and he melted into her hand. "Come along, let's get some dinner." She hummed as she hoisted the cat into her arms. He nuzzled against her chest as she wandered into their kitchen. She had many cats in her time, but Salem was so far the best.

It's too bad he would never live as long as me. She thought while reaching for the can of wet food in the cupboard. She drifted off into her memories, recalling the night she met Salem as she scooped the cat food into a dish.

She found him on a cold winter night. The snow was flying around as she shuffled down the street. It was the winter solstice and Christmas was only a few days away. The twinkling lights made the disgustingly grey city seem almost attractive. Almost magical. She cherished the thought of Christmas, although hers were always spent alone. She could still appreciate the feelings it brought to people. She never stayed in one place long enough to build up any sort of family or friends. She was a ghost, a memory that had made its way out of a person's mind before too long. She passed a shop filled with people finishing last minute Christmas purchases when she heard a tiny, pathetic noise. She had almost missed the soft mew. It sounded so weak, barely clinging to life. She turned and saw a small black mound of dirty, iced over fur. The noise repeated as the little black ball opened big bright eyes the color of a harvest moon and blinked at her slowly. The poor thing seemed to be moments from death. She took off her scarf and scooped the kitten out of the cold, dirty slush, wrapping it tightly before standing and continuing home. The first couple days seemed questionable. She wasn't sure the kitten would live and avoided naming him. Not wanting to become attached. By Christmas he improved, and she gifted him with the name Salem. For the first time in a few decades, she had someone to welcome her home and she remembered how nice it was to be expected by someone.

"It's a good thing I found you," She said softly to the now fully-grown cat, "You would have frozen to death." Salem purred on her lap as they now sat in the armchair, by a warm fire, with a hot cup of tea on the table next to them. "But I think it's even better that you found me."

It had been thirty years since her last cat passed on. She never sought them out. Never looked for them purposefully, she only took them in when they found her. She knew that cats hated moving and sometimes she was required to move a lot. She never felt that it was fair to them. It also helped shield her from pain. Pets already lead shorter lives than people with Seventy-to-Ninety-year life spans, let alone someone who has lived over three hundred years. She scratched him behind his ears. "You are such a good kitty." She cooed. She glanced at the book she had set on the arm rest of the chair and the paper she had found along with it. "What do you think Salem, should I message the mysterious and elusive Tom?" Salem kept purring, surely sound asleep by now. She sighed deeply before reaching for her phone and typing a casual message to this man who was clearly up to something.

{This is Madison from the Coffee shop on 10th. I found your book in our lobby.}

"What's the worst that could happen?" She muttered as she laid her hand on the dusty book. She stared hard at the dirty cover, perhaps she was imagining things, but the book felt ice cold. Sitting as close the fireplace as she was it shouldn't have been freezing. She flipped open the cover and turned the pages. "What the fuck." She gasped lightly as she made the strange realization that the pages were completely blank. They were old, stained with age but entirely blank. As she was examining the book from cover to cover her phone chimed and the screen lit up.

[I know very well who you are. You never answered my question dear. Dinner, you and me?]

She stared at the message, her face flushed in irritation, "Bastard." She muffed. Her response was interrupted by the chime of another message.

[The night is still young. You could meet me at Tulip's. I do miss my book that I left behind and would be so grateful if you could return it to me. What else is there to do, Spend the night in with your cat?]

She stared blankly at the message.

{How did you know I have a cat?}

She typed furiously, glaring at the screen as they bantered back and forth with one another.

[I just assumed… you seem like the type.]

{YOU have no idea what type I am, Tom.}

[Well, why don't you come show me then?]

With that message she stood up and sat Salem down in her chair. Marching to her bedroom with determination as she put on a red sweater dress and black leggings. "I'll be back later Salem," she said explained as she slipped on her boots. "I have to go punch a pretty boy." The cat stared at her as she as she grabbed her scarf, and bag while slipping out the door, locking it behind her. She pulled out her phone and sent a single message…

{On my way.}