Coffee and Police Boxes

                Rich smell of ground coffee, silent dark night street lights.  I sat at a table for two, me and Fen, in a small coffee shop.  No one could see Fen, Fen was magik of some sort.  I’ve tried many times to ask him what exactly he is and if there were others like him, but my questioning has been for naught thusfar.  A waiter came over to my table, this was a fancy coffee shop t seemed.  “The usual, Baker?”  I looked up at him.  It’s funny, I don’t remember ever having been here before.  But, then again, I don’t remember a lot of my life.  My brain is constantly reviewing memories and information and deleting the stuff I don’t need as much.  My body may live forever, but that doesn’t mean I have an infinite amount of nerve-endings in my head.

                “Yes, thank you,” I answered.  Mid as well see what the past version of myself likes.  The waiter nodded and went to grab a usual dish.  Fen smiled at me from across the table.  “Don’t remember this place, do you, Matt?”

                Fen lived forever too, obviously since he was magik.  Except he could remember everything.  “As matter of fact, I don’t.  No big deal though.  I’m sure when last I was here I was the life of the party.”

                Fen sorta looked like a little demon, except he had no feet.  He was red with little horns on his head and a big grin just like Chester Cat.  “I’m sure you were,” he said.

                I ignored him, mostly he was a pain, and stared at the television in the corner.  Doctor Who was playing.  I looked out the window at the police box across the street.  I could never be sure if it was me meeting the creators of Doctor Who which created the show or if it was the show that made me wish for my powers from Fen.  I guess no one will ever know.

                A cup of French vanilla chai was put in front of me, along with a blueberry bagel with butter instead of creame cheese.  Well, go figure it was just about my favourite food.  Past self doesn’t slack on pleasuring himself.  I ate the meal, said thank you, tipped well, and left.  The police box made a low hum before disappearing from the world.  No one would remember that police box ever being there.