The lights flickered and Elliot Crane stared into his laptop screen. Writer’s block was a curse. The deadline for his latest supernatural tale for the ezine Wonders was yesterday and he didn’t have an idea in his head. There were only so many times you could write about ghosts and train stations.
The cursor waited patiently for input. Elliot blinked. He rubbed his eyes, chalking it up to another late night and too much caffeine.
A low hum surged through the room, then the lights blanked, his screen dimmed and the electric heater whirled to a halt.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a subtle dissonance stirred, like music out of tune. He shut his laptop and grabbed his coat.
Outside, the rain drizzled down in fine lines. The morning dog-walkers blocked the pavement.
Elliot walked to The Twilight Zone, his usual coffeeshop, nestled between a bookstore and a dry cleaner. His fingers itched for the warmth of his usual drink: oat milk latte, one sugar.
He stepped inside. The bell above the door jingled. Jazz murmured from speakers. The smell of espresso and damp wool filled the air.
And then Elliot stopped cold.
At the corner table – the one he always sat at – was… himself.
Same coat. Same tired eyes. Same notebook lying open next to the same half-drunk cup of coffee.
The man looked up. Their eyes locked. For a moment, neither moved.
Then the other Elliot raised an eyebrow and said, ‘It took you long enough.’
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Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 