[Setting]

Elliot and Claire are sitting at an outdoor café on a pleasantly sunny afternoon. Claire is sipping on an iced latte while Elliot, nursing a hot coffee, seems unusually at ease. The air feels crisp, people are walking their dogs, and there’s a jazz quartet playing a soft tune in the park nearby. It’s perfect. Unremarkable. Blissfully mundane.

Of course, the god of coincidence arrives.

They don’t approach directly. Instead, Elliot sees the god out of the corner of his eye, standing at the edge of the café’s outdoor seating area, examining a leaf—turning it over, squinting, looking at it as if it’s some ancient artifact of great significance.

Elliot (groaning softly): “Oh no...”

Claire (looking over, frowning): “What is it?”

Elliot (gesturing subtly with his head): “Look who’s here. Acting weird. Again.”

Claire turns her head and sees the god, still fixated on the leaf. She smiles and waves. The god notices, smiles broadly, and wanders over, pocketing the leaf in their coat like it’s a precious relic.

Coincidence (cheerfully): “Ah, Elliot! Claire! Just who I was hoping to stumble across by sheer chance.”

Elliot (dryly): “Of course. I was just starting to think today was too normal.”

The god slides into a chair, completely uninvited, and gestures at Elliot’s coffee cup with a look of grave importance.

Coincidence: “Do you ever wonder, Elliot, if that coffee you’re holding is actually coffee? Or if it’s just the idea of coffee—something programmed into your perception to make you think you’re enjoying a warm, comforting beverage, when in reality, it’s… oh, I don’t know… a very convincing mirage?”

Elliot (raising an eyebrow, clearly suspicious): “Are we doing this again? Is this another story about how nothing is real?”

Coincidence (laughing): “Oh no, no, not nothing. Just... some things. Or maybe everything. Who’s to say?”

Elliot sighs deeply, taking a slow sip of his coffee, already bracing himself for whatever nonsense is about to follow.

Coincidence: “Let me tell you a story, Elliot. A story of two realities—both existing at the same time, but layered, like a cake. Except it’s not a cake you can eat. It’s more like... an imaginary cake that you think you’re eating but might actually just be a hat.”

Claire (smiling, genuinely curious): “A hat-cake?”

Coincidence (nodding enthusiastically): “Exactly! Now, in this story, there was a man—let’s call him... Leonard. Or Lenny. Yes, Lenny. Lenny was living his life just like anyone else—going to work, paying his bills, occasionally wondering if he was supposed to feel more excited about asparagus than he did. But one day, Lenny noticed something odd. He was standing in his kitchen, holding an umbrella—which was odd in itself because it hadn’t rained for days—and he suddenly had this thought: What if this kitchen isn’t actually here? What if it’s just a very convincing imitation of a kitchen?”

Elliot (mumbling): “Of course he did…”

The god leans in, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Coincidence: “Now, Lenny, being the inquisitive sort, decided to test his theory. He poked the counter, he sniffed the curtains, and then, just to be sure, he tried licking the fridge—because if you want to know if something’s real, licking it is as good a test as any. And just as he was about to conclude that yes, indeed, the fridge seemed quite fridge-like, something happened. The kitchen glitched. Just for a moment, like a flicker—a spark of something else. Lenny could swear he saw a field of flowers. And then—poof—it was gone. Back to the kitchen.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Elliot blinks, staring at the god, the story taking hold despite himself.

Elliot (hesitant): “A field of flowers? Like… behind the kitchen?”

Coincidence (grinning): “Oh, precisely! Except it wasn’t behind the kitchen, nor was it above or below. It was simply… elsewhere. But it was there. Just enough for Lenny to know, deep down, that his kitchen was not the only version of reality.”

Claire (leaning forward, intrigued): “So, what did Lenny do?”

Coincidence (sighing dramatically): “Lenny did what any reasonable person would do. He began to doubt everything. He doubted his kitchen, his fridge, his asparagus—everything! He started carrying that umbrella everywhere, convinced that if he could just catch the right kind of rain, he might see the field of flowers again.”

Elliot (incredulous): “The right kind of rain?”

Coincidence (nodding solemnly): “The kind of rain that doesn’t make you wet but makes you remember things you never realized you’d forgotten. Lenny was convinced that his life was a mix—a blend of two realities. One was the ordinary life he’d always known, the other was something more… foundational, like an original canvas beneath layers of paint. He called it Reality 0. The true base layer of existence.”

Elliot frowns, trying to piece it together.

Elliot: “So, Lenny thought there was an original reality… and this one was just painted over it?”

Coincidence (smiling): “Perhaps. Or maybe it was more like this reality was a practice run—a virtual reality, if you will. A simulation of sorts, designed to let people experience things before they returned to the real reality. Lenny believed he was living in what he called a virtual rehearsal. Or perhaps he just liked the idea of having a second chance—of there being another, truer version of things where he could make different choices.”

Claire (gently): “And did Lenny ever find the field again?”

Coincidence (winking): “Who knows? Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’s still out there, licking refrigerators, hoping for a glimpse of flowers. The important part, though, is that he started to realize something profound. He realized that the glitch—the glimpse of something else—wasn’t a flaw. It was a gift. A reminder that there’s always more than what we see. Whether it’s a field of flowers, an umbrella that rains memories, or a kitchen that’s only maybe real, there’s always something more. Something behind the curtain, just waiting to be found. Or maybe not.”

Elliot shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

Elliot: “So what’s the point, then? That reality is just… layered cakes and glitches?”

Coincidence (laughing softly): “The point, Elliot, is that maybe the layers are the point. Maybe life is about experiencing each layer as it comes, whether it’s a kitchen, a field of flowers, or something else entirely. Maybe the fun part is not knowing which layer you’re on, or whether you’re even supposed to understand any of it.”

Elliot (sighing): “You know, I think I liked it better when today was just about coffee and jazz.”

Coincidence (patting Elliot on the shoulder): “Ah, but think of it this way: now you have two versions of today! The one with the coffee and jazz, and the one where you wondered if the coffee was even real. Twice the experience, twice the fun.”

Claire (smiling, nudging Elliot): “And twice the chance to get it right, right?”

Elliot (groaning): “Yeah, well, I’d settle for just once without a random encounter.”

The god stands up, dusting off their coat, giving a satisfied smile as they look at Claire and Elliot.

Coincidence (in a sing-song voice): “Well, my dear travelers of layered realities, I’ll leave you to your coffee—or whatever version of it you prefer. Just remember, if you ever see a glitch… try licking the fridge. You never know what you might find.”

With a final wink, the god of coincidence strolls away, whistling a tune that somehow makes Elliot think of rain falling in reverse. Claire chuckles, taking another sip of her iced latte.

Claire (grinning at Elliot): “So, what do you think? Is this the real reality?”

Elliot (smiling despite himself): “I think if this was a rehearsal, I’d ask for fewer gods and more sanity. But then again… maybe it’s better this way.”

They clink their cups together—a toast to uncertainty, layered cakes, and all the realities they may or may not get to experience.

[End Scene]

[retcon:1]