C-CUTC-006
Barista: Jackie Lang
Date: Dec-6-2019
Receipt: C-CUTC-006
Subject: Clean Up
I dug through the wreckage with my bare hands.
Ash clung to my skin, my clothes, the inside of my throat. The air was thick with the stench of burned wood, melted plastic, and something worse—something acrid and sour that churned in my lungs and made my head swim. The ████ from the ██████ ██████ had settled deep into the ruins, staining everything in its sickly yellow haze, leaving behind a grumous, clinging residue.
I knew I shouldn’t be breathing it in.
I knew I should stop.
But I couldn’t.
I had to find something. Someone.
This was my Cafe. These were my people. And if I didn’t find them, who would?
I overturned a scorched beam, my fingers scraping against something brittle and black. ████. █ ████████ ██ █████████ ████ ███ ████ ████ █████. █ ██████ ██ ██ ██ ██ ████, ███████ ██ ██ ██ ████████—████████—█████ ████ ████ ██ ███.
And then I heard it.
I snapped my head up, my breath catching.
███ █████████████ █████ ██████ ██████ ██, ████████, ████████. ██ ██████ ████ ██████ ███ ██ ██ ███ ████.
████ █████ ██ ████ ████ ██ ██ ███ ████████ ███████. ██ ██████, ████████ ███ ████, ████ ████ ██████. ██████ ███ ██ ███ ███████, ████████ ███ ████ ████ ███ ████ ██ ██ ████ ██████, ███ ██████ ████ ███████ ███ ████, ███████ ███████ ████████ ███████ ███ ████. ███████ ██████ ██ ███ ███████, ████ ███████, ████ █████ ███ ███████.
My breath hitched. My knees nearly gave out.
They watched me. No one spoke.
And I knew.
It wasn’t them.
Not really.
I staggered back, pulse pounding in my ears. The smoke squirmed, and suddenly, they weren’t standing anymore. They were ███████.
██████ ██████ ██ █████ ████, █████ ██████, █████ █████. █████ ████ █████████, ██████, ████████ ████. █████ ██████ ███████ ████ ██ ██████ ███████. █████ ████—████. ████ ███████ ██████ ███ ██████ ██ ███ ████.
Not real. Not real. Not real.
I was alone in the wreckage. My hands trembled. My lungs burned. ███ ████ ████████—█ █████ ██ ████, ████ ██████—slipped from my fingers, lost in the ash.
I had to keep looking.
I had to.
There had to be something still in the wreckage.
Something.
Please.
Decaffeinate Receipt
“Not real.”
Knowledge | 3 Words