who: open starter (@gpstarters)
where: neighborhood cafe
gabriel had never been a man burdened by deep philosophical questions.
he didn’t waste time wondering if he deserved to be here, didn’t sit around contemplating the cosmic significance of his existence. that was a waste of a perfectly good eternity.
so while everyone else seemed deeply concerned with why they were here, gabriel had skipped straight to acceptance—and more importantly, opportunity.
at the moment, he was loitering outside one of the quaint little cafés, sipping on a drink he’d absolutely not paid for (who was gonna stop him?) and watching people freak out over their new reality like it was a spectator sport.
“i gotta say,” he mused aloud, lifting his cup slightly, speaking to no one in particular but loud enough that someone would eventually take the bait, “for a place that’s supposed to be, y’know—perfect—the coffee’s kinda ass.”
he took another sip anyway, grimaced, and then let out a deep, exaggerated sigh, shaking his head like he was deeply disappointed in the divine beverage selection.
“i mean, really? eternity, and this is what we’re working with? no cuban coffee? no espresso that makes you question your own mortality? just this—” he swirled the liquid around, unimpressed, “beige sadness in a cup?”
he leaned back against the wall, eyes scanning the street, looking for someone who looked bored enough, curious enough, or just dumb enough to engage with him.
“tell me, do they let us file complaints up here, or is this more of a ‘take it up with management when you see them’ kind of deal?”
