The Morning Ritual was a lively place bustling with people, and I admired their dedication to the theme. I got the distinct impression that Quinn was the one who ran things around here, and that there was no coincidence in the decor matching her own aesthetic. The coffee was delicious with a chocolatey finish that balanced perfectly with the vanilla that was added. It was almost like the syrup wasn't just a sugar delivery system, which let the natural flavors of the vanilla bean paste come through.

Most everyone here in the coffee shop was sharing the table or booth with someone else. This was clearly the place that the people of the Yucaborough came to catch up with friends. Sometimes places that leaned into the dark witchy vibe became alienating, but this place felt more like it was the lair of the white witch that made charms and protections instead of hexes and curses. As I drank the coffee, a strange information panel popped up in the top right corner of my view.

Buzzed

Cognition+

Speed+

The angel from the Great In-Between, if that's truly what that was and not a delusion of my dying mind, had said that this world ran on rules similar to that of a video game. That information panel that appeared was just like a buff summary window. Coffee gave you a buzz, so it was clearly the reason why the buff appeared, but I was a little bit nebulous about exactly what those messages meant. This system didn't deal in numbers, but just indicated a couple of elements that I had received a boost in. I almost wanted to get out of my booth and test to see whether I actually moved faster from drinking this coffee, but the moment I decided to do that Darren the Cook came out carrying my breakfast.

The eggs benedict, or rather eggs royale as they called it in this world, was served in a very similar way to how I expected. Two pieces of toasted sourdough, slathered in butter, with a pair of poached eggs sitting atop two rashers of bacon crisped to perfection. There was a yellow sauce on top and a quick taste revealed that this was indeed hollandaise sauce even though it had a completely different name in this world. There was a sprig of green herb on top, which looked a little bit like a clover but had a delicious aromatic scent.

I sliced the knife into one of the eggs, which was poached perfectly. Runny yellow yolk oozed out and over my bacon and toast. My stomach grumbled at the sight, and I gave in to its whims. That first mouthful was heaven. I'd never been able to poach eggs myself in my old life. Everyone always told me all of the different tricks of how you could do it, like putting a little bit of vinegar in the water and stirring it up like a whirlpool before you drop the eggs in, or wrapping them in cling wrap, but nothing that I ever tried worked out the way I wanted it to. The eggs that Darren made were absolute perfection, and at just over six dollars for a breakfast, I could see myself coming here often.

While I was about halfway through breakfast I noticed a young woman come through the front doors holding an acoustic guitar case slung over one shoulder. She had brown hair cut into a bob and a nervous look on her face, like she didn’t want to be here. There was a chair set up in the corner, and now that I looked at it, I realized that it was set up for her. She took her place and tuned her guitar to make sure it was just right. Then without any announcement or introduction, she started playing.

Back in my old life I was always a fan of music, but my tastes ran a little harder. I grew up on a steady diet of rock and roll and was just the right age to be completely sucked into the early 2000s nu-metal phase. I look back at some of the music that I listened to as a teenager and cringe, but at the same time when those tracks came up on my Spotify playlist, I never skipped them.

There was a little standee just in front of the guitarist. It said her name was Ali Walker, but there was no other promotional information or anything like that. I almost expected to see a standee with a QR code on it that linked off to all of her social media platforms, as well as a link to donate money through PayPal or Ko-Fi for the performance, but there was none of that. There was a little jar set up to the side of where Ali played, and it just had a handwritten note on the outside that said thank you with an old school smiley face drawn next to it.

When Ali started playing, it began as a serviceable yet generic indie rock song with a rising arpeggio that transitioned into strong chord progression. She really did have some talent, but when she opened her mouth to sing the entire atmosphere of the Morning Ritual changed.

When she had walked in, she looked like the regular shy and reserved type, nervous about getting up in front of the crowd to play music, but the moment she started singing she became another person entirely. She kept her eyes closed while she played, but her the voice was melodic and soulful, and even though the topic of what she sung about was basic young adult angst and not feeling like you fit in anywhere in the world, it was performed with such raw honesty and vulnerability that it was impossible not to be moved.

It was halfway through the first song when I realized that I’d simply forgotten to keep eating my breakfast. The song had enraptured me so completely that I’d forgotten about the food in front of me. She kept her eyes closed until the song was done, and then when she was finished, she looked up at us briefly and muttered a shy thank you to the crowd. And let me tell you, the round of applause that rose from the early morning coffee hounds of the Morning Ritual was almost as loud as the song itself.

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“Yeah Ali, that’s my girl!” Quinn called out from behind the counter.

Quinn had even stopped serving coffee while Ali played, and I got the feeling that they were probably very good friends. Quinn owned the coffee shop from what I could gather, and maybe she brought Ali in to play to the customers on a regular schedule. Maybe that’s why there were so many people here for the breakfast shift this morning.

Quinn seemed like the forthright, confident type, but Ali appeared to be the opposite. If there’s one thing I’ve learned throughout my life, it’s that it is always good to surround yourself with your opposites who could compliment your own shortcomings.

I finished my breakfast and ended up nursing my coffee for much longer than I expected. Ali played song after song, and I found myself not able to look away. I wanted to know what was going on in her head while she sang, why she felt the need to close her eyes and close herself off to the people who were so enamored by what she had to say.

She ended up playing six songs in all, and the crowd applauded with more gusto at the end of each one. Ali Walker seemed to be quite the local superstar. Once she was finished, she smoothed her hair over her ears and said a few words.

“Thank you so much everyone. It means the world to me that you would listen to my songs, and I’m sorry that I only have six to play. I’m working on some new material at the moment, but it’s not ready yet.”

A man sitting in a nearby booth called out. “There’s no need to be sorry, love! We’ll be here whenever you want to test out your new material. When are you putting an album together?”

Ali’s face flushed red at the question. “Oh I don’t know about that. I just like playing for now. I don’t have a lot of money to pay for a recording studio or anything like that so I guess you guys are going to be the only ones who get to hear my stuff for the next little while.”

She said those words with a defeated resignation. She obviously wanted to record her songs and put an album out, but it sounded like in her head she’d already talked herself out of that being a possibility.

Something about deciding to live this life without regrets made me want to do everything in my power to help her do the same. There were many times in my previous life where I wanted to chase my dreams and do something that was out of the ordinary. Something unexpected and amazing. Whenever this happened, I would always talk myself out of it before anything came to fruition, and I could see Ali doing the same thing herself.

While Ali put her guitar away into its velvet-lined hard case, I took notice of the brand of guitar. The shape of the body was not something that I recognized, and the brand was something called a Cordell. It looked like a lovely and quite expensive guitar, with what looked like an ash wood fretboard with mother of pearl inlays.

Not continuing to play guitar in my previous life was one of those regrets I carried with me. I picked up an el cheapo electric guitar starter pack when I was in high school, and I learned how to play all of the simple power cord punk rock songs that were big when I was young. Then real life happened and I went off to college, and my love for music fell by the wayside. I was nowhere near as great a talent as Ali Walker was, but some days I still missed having a guitar to mess around with something fierce.

Maybe I’d have to pick one up in this world and give it a shot. I’m sure I had at least a hundred popular songs from my world memorized, and some of them would probably blow the minds of the people in this world.

Suddenly an image flashed in my head of some possible future where Ali and I fell in love and played music together. I saw us both on stage, playing guitars back-to-back, me playing the lead guitar solo while she sang with that angelic voice of hers.

I quickly swallowed the last mouthfuls of coffee, and winced a little at how sweet the last gulp was. I often forgot that coffee flavorings sink to the bottom if you leave them alone long enough, and it felt like there was a little glob of sweet vanilla just waiting for me at the bottom. I got out of my booth and headed over towards Ali.

“Hey Ali, I just wanted to say that your songs were absolutely beautiful.” I took out my wallet and then took out a folded $10 bill. I slipped that into the jar where others had already left some money for Ali’s performance.

Her eyes lit up. “Thank you, but hey, that’s a lot of money. Are you sure?”

“If I had more to give, I would. I want you to know that you have something really special. Your lyrics come from a place of total honesty, and you can hear that truth when you sing.”

Her cheeks flushed red, then she mumbled another thank you.

“How often do you play here?” I asked.

“Every Monday morning. Why is that?”

“After what I just saw, I don’t think I want to miss a performance.”

The redness on her cheeks got even deeper and she looked away from me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m just being honest.”

She looked up at me again then and smiled. Some of that confidence that she had what she was playing was back on her face now. “Thank you so much for your kind words. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I know you. Are you new in town?”

I gave her the whole story about my grandfather passing away and me taking over the farm, and why I was in town this morning. I felt like I was going to need to print a massive sign and just carry it around with me, so all of these townspeople knew who I was, why I was here, and to please ask them to just treat me like I’ve been here forever.

“Jackson, is it?” She asked.

“That’s me.”

“Well Jackson I hope to see you here again next Monday,” she said with a hopeful smile.

I decided to push my luck a little, because you know, no regrets this time around. “If you are interested, maybe we could meet up for coffee some other time?”

Her eyes went wide like she was a deer caught in the headlights. She stammered something, but I couldn’t really understand what she said. Then she centered herself, took a breath, then spoke again. “I-I’m not really in a place where I can have coffee with guys. It’s nothing to do with you, I just, it's not really the right time. F-for that.”

“I understand,” I said. “That offer is open any time, with no pressure of anything except for a cup of coffee shared. The world needs more beautiful songs in it just like these.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you here next Monday?” It did sound like there was a hopeful tone to her question, and I understood.

Clearly she had things going on in her life that made pursuing any kind of relationship or even entertaining the thought of one impossible at the moment, which was just fine. She seemed like a beautiful soul, one that I could see myself becoming friends with, and I wasn’t ready to jump straight into a relationship either.

“I promise I’ll be here,” I said.

A little of that confidence returned as she smiled and snapped the clasps guitar case together. “Good. I’ll see you then.”

I headed out of the Morning Ritual with a full belly and a feeling of hope in my heart.