They’re celebrating their last day in style: balloons, a big card for everyone to sign, and free coffee all day long, but there is a sad undertone to the merriment. We’d gone through the drivethrough, then came in to sign the card and say goodbye. Last week, I’d made sure to sign up for the mailing list, to be notified if they find a new location, but so far the manager hasn’t seemed very hopeful about that.
As we were coming towards the door, a gentleman was coming out. We nodded at each other and he paused. Both of us felt, I think, a need to mark the occasion, to acknowledge the Jitters bond. “Sad day,” he said. “Very sad,” I replied. Inside all the baristas were glammed out and a little shell-shocked, I think, that this day had come.
Still, I will sorely miss Wendy and Megan and Amanda and all the rest of the cheerful Jitters crew.
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"(On the writing F&SF workshop) Wanted to crow and say thanks: the first story I wrote after taking your class was my very first sale. Coincidence? nah….thanks so much."
(Fiction, short story) The thing is, I was never a hero. The first wave of aliens taught me that. The war with them – my older brothers became heroes there, one died in the stand-off at Ucer-25, and we never did discover what happened to the other. My parents celebrated them both, burned scarlet and gold candles that made the house smell like flaming trees and sulphur, every weekend without fail…
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