the vampire of happiness

27 | coffee lounge

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : first june, 23:;

That day, I sulk my ass all the way over to Coffee Lounge. A glimmering tower, several storeys, comes into picture. Even the entry fee is hundred bucks or so.

Lilith insisted on meeting me there.

Knowing damn well my pockets had asteroid-big holes, I continued.

At the reception, I offered my mouthful name. To my amazement - they say it's all taken care of, that I can step into the next dimension without hold back.

"Pretty fucking sweet," I mumbled.

"You're finally here."

"Looks like it."

We order coffees.. Blueberry Sunday Latte and Columbian Bean Black Tea - alongside cheese bagels, which I couldn't resist since they were placed smack dab in the middle, a huge spectacle!

I cleared my throat. Fucking focus. "So," I say. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"More like what I will do for you."

Intriguing. Continue.

"There's the festival of Reds," she says, sipping cerulean foamed off her cup's rim, and then sets it down. "Operose does take its traditions very seriously. It's annoying, but not this year."

Ah, the festival of Reds - the most important week of the year; Consisting of stalls, tourist visits, booming fairs, major discounts and overall, the beginning of something new, extraordinary. They think te colour red brings good luck.

"Cut to the chase, steppie."

"Freak," she gets exasperated and the knot in my tummy comes undone, as I feel more secure. Sitting diagonal to her, on this plush leather seat, my ass has fallen asleep and this cheese, the abundance of stink and intensity has had me gasping - I don't wanna vomit this, this place is too pricey to encounter my accidents, my experiments-

"Listen here, punk."

"All ears."

"Your mom's got her doubts about fate and shit, true? About her age, about love, about everything?"

This stranger just summed up my mom. But I glance at her defiantly - no confirmation.

"She has no confidence left, she doesn't trust her stars, yes? Well, guess what."

"What," act natural, look bored. That's how she knows you belong. That's how your fitted black jeans and winterberry top appear less than embarrassing -

Lilith smirks, divinely. She waves, an indication for the waitress to collect the cheque and her large-sized tip, I think.

"I've formulated just the perfect plan. They'd never know what hit 'em."

I'm perplexed, but she has me.

"What hit them?"

"The stars," she leaned back and assumed a queenly pose, "The red string of fate tugs, they'd both feel it, strangely attracted, connected by God himself...

"The stars are us, obviously."

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