By Joanna Szeto
Johnson lined up behind the redhead. He’d heard about this surreal place. Java that changed lives. He ordered number four. A cubby door lit up with his name. Johnson tugged it open, stared at the black liquid, and chugged it down. The coffee burned his throat.
Immediately, he felt his soul leave his body. He hovered a moment before flying out the door towards the cemetery. He lit an incense stick, reciting a prayer. “The numbers,” he mumbled. “I just need tomorrow’s numbers.”
The grass around the tombstone turned yellow, and then brown. Five numbers. Enough to pay the hospital bills.
Clever: science fiction and numerology in the same tale.
Wow! That story has so many layers. Hopeful, yet distressing. Supernatural, yet wrapped in dire consequences of onerous medical bills. Very nicely done!