The Extraordinary Café
by 
The warm smell of fresh brownies drifted across the cafe, ducking under the tables, squeezing through chairs, urged on by the fans; it flew. A gooey batch, chocolate chips still soft, had appeared on the counter. So loudly rang the placing of the tray, that Matt’s eyes glanced over, his mouth already watering, and so the enticing aroma managed to make him half consider ordering two.
Over Matt’s head, a clock's hand ticked a steady background beat, drawing his attention. For all wandering eyes, it was ten to two; she was twenty minutes late. A huff of impatience escaped his cracked lips, his mind drifting back to the crowded room.
An elderly man sat slouched at the table across from him, his broadsheet newspaper out of place in a room full of faces glazed by the light of phone screens. Matt‘s hand instinctively touched his own in his pocket. If he got it out, his eyes would be glued hard to it, in case the light flashed. His mind knew it would vibrate, but the flash came first. It was an addiction he couldn’t fight. Not to the phone. To her.
His mind buzzed and beeped, unable to fight the itch of wonder…
”...where was she?”
The old man‘s mouth let go of a cough, accompanying the symphony of crinkling as he flipped a page. Matt’s eyes darted up, accidentally catching his gaze, the man smiled at him eagerly folding the paper away.
Matt’s mind shuddered, cursing itself as the man rose, heading towards him. As soon as the stranger came within ear shot, Matt called out trying to put him off.
“Sorry mate, i’m waiting for someone.”
The grin over the worn face widened.
“Someone who still ain’t here yet, ‘ow about a bit of company, to help with the waiting? Whatcha say?”
Put on the spot, Matt’s thoughts already ablaze, he found himself nodding before reason could interject. The flame in his mind was inundated with worries and the urge to call her now - to see where oh where she was. Matt didn’t have the patience for small talk, but it was too late; the elderly man was lowering himself into the chair opposite.
The chair eeking with the slow applying pressure of aching joints, a wry smile found itself on the old man’s lips. In the opposite side of tension: a forced smile began forming on Matt’s dry lips, his hand quivering but extending for an introduction.
Matt &The Shaman
by 
But even before Matt could feel a hand to grasp, the imagination dissolved and he noticed how he was still sitting alone at the table and the man was still leafing through his newspaper in his place.
He had daydreamed.
Relieved, but also a little disappointed, Matt leaned back again. Such things didn't happen in real life. Again he looked over to the man, again his gaze was returned, then going back to the paper letters.
She would not come.
Matt got up abruptly, had the brownie wrapped up, paid, and was on his way out.
Outside, a day like any other. He had eagerly awaited her and now she hadn't appeared. In his trouser pocket he felt the small bag with the mushrooms. Quickly he made his way to the subway, pulled a ticket on the way to the city limits, where there was a place where he had wanted to take her.
The Shaman would not be pleased if they did not keep their appointment. So he had to visit her alone.
Damn it! Why, she had agreed, they had made this trip together!
Half an hour later he reached the red painted wooden door. Knocked. Some steps and he was opened. The shaman looked at him: "Alone?"
"Yes, unfortunately ...", Matt felt a little awkward.
"Doesn't matter", was returned to him without hesitation.
After a strong self-brewed tea, the brownie they had shared, Matt felt how the magic mushrooms began to work. The shaman had led him into her heated room, where she had burned all kinds of incense sticks and made others glow. The room was wafting under the scents and her voice was quite appealing, she sang a melody unknown to him. He noticed how his perception shifted. This was a unique offer. The mushroom trip with her company was a serious matter. Or so Matt thought.
But suddenly there was the shaman standing next to him. Her clothes were colorful and he saw her round belly, which was visible under the flowers of her blouse. A ... beautiful ... round and well fed belly. Actually, ... she was even ... fat! Yes, and why not?
He laughed.
Looked at her.
Laughed even more.
Pointed his finger at her belly and said: "What a fat round belly! HaHaHa!! Wonderful, quite excellent!"
The shaman - no spoilsport - laughed along.
She laughed even louder than him.
She had very big and deep eyes, so brown, almost black, that he couldn't stop wondering if he could reach in with his hand.
Matt took a step towards her, but then ...
... he fell.
He saw himself falling, only very ... very ... slowly.
The Shaman took an elegant step back and did not catch him.
Did nothing.
Matt didn't feel him hitting the ground at all. On the way he had lost his "me". Strange ... that he no longer had a concept for what "his", "him" and "he" was. Basically ... very true, yes! ... the world was quite a funny place, .. why had he ever missed anything or anyone? How beautiful everything was, even the ugliness was beautiful. Beautiful shaman. Beautiful everythingone. "HeHe", he giggled. His face very close to the carpet he admired the artfully embroidered fibres. It smelled good.
The shaman and he did their thing.
She understood her business.
He became to understood his.
Matt, when he stepped out into the cold evening air hours later, refreshed and fogged like never before, a sight had conquered. What he had been looking for had begun. The first time he smiled a normal liberated smile, jaw relaxed, peace in his heart. With his hands in his trouser pockets, he strolled towards home.
He knew, a repetition was nothing he longed for.
Everything was fine.
Anyone interested in participating in the growing realms of the
