I could go into detail about the meal that followed, but I am reminded of omissions that must be exacted. To that end, allow me to sprinkle a few details from both before and after our impromptu supper.

Following my week-long stay at the infirmary and another two at home, the better part of a month had passed since Mr. ********* had fallen ill. My body needed rest but my mind did not, so I slept less than I should have. Confined to my quarters, I sifted through the finances left to me by my predecessor. It was clear he had no head for numbers, sitting on a horde of wealth and opportunity yet barely able to stay ahead of his creditors.

Amos agreed the calamari was an excellent starter.

After securing the computers, I researched day trading for stocks. In this modern age, it was all run by machines using programs that bought and sold for you, and I was exceedingly good at making predictions in money movement. I leveraged those early successes to pay off interest debts and free up credit, enabling larger investments to be made.

The seafood bisque was suitably rich and creamy. I was sorry only for ordering a cup instead of the bowl.

Staring into the ceiling at night, dreams escaped me… until after Eren’s touch at the Court of Food. In the nights that followed, my slumber drifted more into memory than a dream: a desolate place where nothing grew, the ground was as black stone and the sky devoid of stars. The sole source of illumination was a still pool of liquid — my pool, knowing of others nearby like myself. To us, there was no pain, no strife, and no existence, merely time without end.

I chose the pecan-encrusted mahi-mahi. Amos decided upon a platter of fried shrimp and catfish.

Our pools were windows into other places, worlds more interesting than the barren realm we occupied. The emotions of living beings could be sensed across the threshold, mortal entities heard and observed, a corporeal existence denied to ourselves. We were beings of power only able to yearn for pleasure and pain. We each searched for connection beyond the pool, seeking a being that could perceive us on a familiar wavelength, one who could be influenced and seduced.

Coffee and a slice of Florida Key Lime cheesecake are always good finishers.

Whenever one of us encountered such a being, we nurtured that relationship as either an inner voice or an invisible friend, hoping for a unique opportunity to present itself. In the instant a corporeal form was sufficiently weakened due to illness or damage, our dark spirit could displace the waning soul an instant before the being expired, allowing us to save it for ourselves. Whenever successful, our brethren would disappear as would their pool, as though we never were.

“Trust the process.” Eren’s words.

Call it possession, occupation, or merely displacement, it was an irresistible calling, and I knew I had done it many times… at least in my dreams.

When the server returned with the check for our meal that evening, I asked what payments they accepted. As she easily named them, I suggested to her in my mind that we were very important, and the meal should be complementary for those befitting our status, repeating it in my mind like a whisper into a lover’s ear. After a flustered moment, she excused herself to consult with her manager. I implanted the same thought into his head as he came to the table personally.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

“Your money, as they say, is no good here. We’re happy to have you. Was there anything else?”

I gave Amos an earnest look of surprise. He looked worried but said nothing.

“Yes, if you please,” I replied. “Total the checks of everyone else dining here tonight and put the total on this.” I handed him a card, suggesting the idea it was a matter of pride to accept my offer.

“Very good, sir.”

It was my full intent to tip half the amount. It was the least I could do for my involuntary test subjects.

Amos leaned forward, speaking too loudly. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m no one of consequence… or to be trifled with.”

Or start from the Beginning

. . .