Chapter 1: Where She Found That Thing Beyond Her Hopes

The Glacegold shopping district was a quiet place that seemed almost devoid of visitors. It was mostly thanks to its unusual location, far away from majorly “populated” areas. Even by car, which was becoming a bit of a rarity thanks to the growing lack of interest in travel, the nearest population center was at least an hour away. For most, it was simply too inconvenient to visit, save for those who particularly enjoyed the unique experience it offered. In that way, its biggest weakness served as its greatest strength. The district also functioned as a small neighborhood. Most of the proprietors were residents, choosing to make their establishments their home. These strange characteristics were part of what drove Mari to make a trip to the peculiar area. It was possible the quaint place would have just what she was looking for.

Mari took the train to get there, but even the nearest station was a pretty long way away from the district. While there were still some ridesharing services active, fees were often exorbitant. Unfortunately for her, that meant the only real option was to walk the rest of the way. By the time she managed to arrive at the Glacegold’s empty parking lot, she was exhausted, sweaty, and certain her hair was a mess. Using her phone’s camera, she quickly adjusted it as best she could with the small hairbrush she kept in her bag. The camera brought her cardigan to her attention as well, which was partially draped off one of her shoulders. From the few details she managed to dig up online, the district was rather old-fashioned, so she thought it best to dress up a bit. Yet, here she was looking like a total mess. She specially picked out an open brown plaid cardigan to go over her white sundress, hoping it would complement her light brown hair and eyes. Having fixed her cardigan and tidied up the best she could, she made her way towards the black iron gate that served as the entrance.

As Mari entered the district, she immediately took notice of the brick buildings, which created an exceptionally cozy feeling. The shops had unlit string lights strung between them and greenery placed all around. Though the buildings may have been old, everything appeared to be very upkept and clean. In the center of the district, there was a grass field with round picnic tables spread around. As she strolled past various shops, she took special notice of the ones she rarely saw elsewhere, such as a video store and a stationery shop. Brick and mortar itself wasn’t even too common anymore, so the “outdated” shops and lack of customers really left her wondering how they managed to get by. Actually, there seemed to be no one around at all. It was an odd feeling, but not a particularly bad one. On the contrary, she found it peaceful despite not typically enjoying that sort of solitude.

She continued to take in the atypical sights before finally approaching what she’d visited for. This was it... It had to be it. In front of her stood a large building lacking any visible signage. She was only able to make out what it was thanks to a review she found mentioning the large, heavily tinted windows beside the front door. This was a detail starkly different from the other shops in the district, which primarily had smaller windows. Online, it was described in various ways. The official listing labelled it a bar, while the scarce reviews often referred to it as a “jazz lounge” or “jazz cafe”. The only listed picture was of a seemingly random dog. She felt lucky to find even that much info considering the location. Regardless, the type of place wasn’t all that important if it had what she needed. She wanted to go inside and find out right away, but as she tried to step forward, an overwhelming fear began to grip her.

For years, Mari had been searching for a place that felt just like her parents’ old bakery, a place that felt like “home”. She visited as many locations as she could find with surface-level similarities, but none had what she yearned for. She always knew nothing could feel exactly the same. After all, the ones who were capable of creating such an atmosphere were no longer around. Despite how painfully aware of it she was, she still wished to find that warm feeling. Was even something remotely similar unobtainable in this world without them? Was that feeling, the one she knew was merely a cheap but beautiful imitation of something far greater, really out of reach? She wasn’t sure she could go on if that were the case. Ever since they left, so much of what she knew started to feel so empty.

She knew it was wrong to think in such a way. After all, if it really was gone completely, shouldn’t she be the one who strives to create it? Yet, thinking that way didn’t numb the pain either. Pretty ideals were much easier thought than put into action. That’s why she was terrified that it might truly break her. Still, that wasn’t what rattled her the most. Rather, the idea that her faith may really be that fragile was far more difficult to accept. Would it really be so easy for her will to be defeated? Was her faith so weak? If it were, then did anything matter at all? Then, would it be better not to find out? But then... Exactly. She recognized that fear of a fragile faith was already betraying that very same faith. Nonsense, foolishness, a loose mind. Simply LIES. All those worries were absurd what-ifs that only served to hold her back. They were the real roadblock, not whatever circumstances were ahead. With that resolution, she gathered the courage to move her feet.

As her eyes raked over the building and her feet carried her forward, those thoughts still resounded in her head, trying to beat her down, telling her that there was no way this place that had seemingly nothing in common with that which she held dear could be what she needed. Even so, she refused to stay frozen by the lies whispered to her. Every other piece of her screamed that this was right. When her eyes first fell upon that online listing a month ago, a voice, louder than any other, told her it was what she was looking for. Upon seeing the place with her own eyes, some part of her knew it was the only possibility. The unfounded reservations that plagued her couldn’t win out over that precious truth.

With a deep breath, Mari slowly approached the front door and placed her right hand on the handle. Steeling herself, she swiftly pushed down and opened the door. As she entered, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit her almost instantly. That, combined with the soothing jazz playing over the speakers, caused a sudden wave of relaxation. The interior was well-lit, but not to the extent that it muddled the relaxing mood. Instead, the lighting added a sense of comfort and security to the room. However, even more present than that, another feeling began to take over. It was the very warmth that she had been desperate for.

Mari couldn’t figure out exactly how she felt in that moment. There was a lot of relief and joy, but also an odd sense of confusion and loss. Though it was very similar to the feeling she had been searching for, it wasn’t exact. That was expected; it wasn’t what bothered her at all. Her hang-up was the fact that what she found wasn’t just a similar feeling, but something that laid beyond her hopes. She had always thought of her parents’ bakery as being “like a hug”. The feeling was the warmth of an embrace, one that made her feel safer and more loved than anything else of this world. She always thought it was irreplaceable, at least to that extent, but if that was like an embrace, then what was the feeling of this place? It transcended any physical description she could think up. It was such an innate love. It was a love where there was no need for words, sight, or even touch, a love that truly needed no proof. Just what is this? Whatever it was, however it came about, it was more than enough... No, it was more than “more than enough” could even begin to express.

Mari always thought she understood what love felt like, but this feeling was above any of that. It wasn’t as though she thought such a great love didn’t exist. Rather, she knew that it did, but the idea that it could be fostered in such a ruined world was absurd to her. Yet, here it was. Even more incredible was, if it could exist there, just what feeling awaited beyond all of this? Along with her astoundment, she took solace in knowing that what she wanted to strive for, and more, was still obtainable. At the same time, she felt more discouraged than ever. She wished to create such love as well, but how do you even fathom where to start?

Calming herself down a bit, she was able to take in the rest of her surroundings. Spread throughout the room were various sorts of chairs and tables. Nearest to her, by the entrance, were round high-top bar tables. Further back were a wide variety of comfy-looking couches and seats, with small tables placed in front of each. The seats in that area were facing in the direction of a small stage. On the front right side of the room was a long bar. Shelves of various alcohol bottles lined the wall behind the counter, with coffee machines sitting below. All the descriptors she found online seemed to fit enough, but the fact that no reviews mentioned a stage or performances left her a bit perplexed. Even more odd to her was that she couldn’t find a single soul around. Are they closed, but then why was the door unlocked? Do they just leave the place unmanned?

Unsure of what to do without anyone to order from, she approached the bar and began to browse the menu affixed to the back wall between the sets of alcohol bottles. The menu was fairly minimalistic, only mentioning coffee, decaf, and some flavorings, as far as drinks go. There must have been another menu for the alcohol and other drink offerings. To her surprise, the menu listed some pastries, cakes, and other baked goods as well. Though she hadn’t tried them yet, the idea of the place possibly having something to further remind her of her parents made her a bit giddy. She had even practiced baking for a few years to try to capture the flavor she remembered. She smiled to herself as she continued to imagine how they might taste, but her daydreaming was abruptly interrupted.

A loud “BOO!” suddenly filled the room as a man jumped up onto his feet from behind the bar. It was a big shock, but rather than letting herself get all panicked, Mari stayed calm and took a good look at him. He was a tall, young-looking guy, had short dark brown hair, and eyes that she could only describe as golden. He wore a cheeky grin that quickly faded into concern as he got a better look at her. “I-I’m sorry. I thought you were a regular.” He placed his right hand on the back of his head, rubbing it slightly, and mustered up a smile. “Are you alright, miss?” Seeing his genuine expression made her want to assure him she was fine, but another part of her... Mari couldn’t resist the opportunity to mess with him for a bit.

Thanks to her older sister’s many mildly irritating scare attempts, she was able to keep a straight face throughout the whole event. “D-did I just hear someone?!” She glanced around frantically, pretending to be in a panic at some sort of unknown voice. “I don’t see anyone...” She made sure to glide her eyes past him a few times before resting them back onto him. She then focused her eyes on the bottles behind him, trying to make it look like she was staring through him. The man blinked a few times, clearly confused at the situation. “Ah... Very funny, miss. May I have your name?” She continued to stare, but grew a soft smile. “Well, you’ve already said my name. It’s...” He tilted his head toward her just a bit. Noticing this, Mari slowly leaned over the bar counter.

“BOO!” she yelled out as loud as she could, causing the man to stumble back a few steps. Mari promptly burst out into laughter at the man’s startled expression. After gathering himself, the man let out a chuckle as well. To be fair, it was about time someone got him back for his frequent shenanigans. After laughing for a ridiculous amount of time, Mari finally answered the man. “Mari. And I suppose yours is Mr. Ghost?” She smirked, still planning to tease the man a bit more. He frowned in response. “Since you’re set on being a little bully, I guess you can just call me Mr. Keaton.” Mari giggled at Mr. Keaton’s way of playing along. “Oh. How fussy. I can’t know your first name, Mr. Ghost?”

Mr. Keaton quickly crossed his arms over his chest and swung his head away from her in a dramatic manner. “Nope. I’ll think about it when I’m no longer a ghost... And maybe when you’ve bought something.” He dropped his arms, turned back to face her, and gave her a wink. Mari’s eyes darted to the menu, taking quick note of her options before turning her attention back to him. “Alright then. I’ll just take a coffee with cream and sugar.” Mr. Keaton swung around, quickly preparing the cup and placing it in front of her. “We don’t get new faces here too often.” Mari shuffled onto a stool and blew on the coffee a bit while collecting her thoughts.

“You just wanted to say that cliche line, didn’t you? Well, I just came here cause I thought I might be able to find home.” Mr. Keaton raised an eyebrow at her response.

“Home?”

Mari rested her chin on her hands and let out a soft sigh. “What home is to me... or what it was.”

“Hmm. Any luck?” Mari could see from his expression that he didn’t really grasp what she meant. She didn’t blame him, because even she wasn’t truly sure.

“Well, not exactly. Something better, I suppose. Has anyone ever told you the atmosphere here is a bit... bizarre?”

Mr. Keaton let out a small chuckle and grinned. “Not particularly, but I have been called that myself in meaner ways.”

“I’m sure. I don’t think I can describe it right in words, but it’s very kind.” Mr. Keaton blinked a few times, unsure of how to best respond.

“Oh. Thanks for the compliment... I think. Is it like ‘home’ then?”

Mari nodded and turned her attention back to the cup of coffee. She picked it up and slowly brought it to her mouth for a sip. It was a little too hot still, giving her tongue a slight sting. Once the pain subsided, she was able to focus on the taste. She was impressed by its rich, but not overwhelming, flavor. It also had just the right amount of sugar and cream so as not to mask the coffee while still making it more palatable. Even without looking, she could sense Mr. Keaton’s gaze, who was clearly eager to hear her feedback. She imagined him like a puppy lying under the table waiting for food to drop. As much as she wanted to sadistically keep holding the scrap of food above him, she gave in to the stare. “It’s very tasty. Thank you.” Mr. Keaton beamed with a sense of pride at her approval, leaving Mari feeling satisfied with her decision. She waited a while before the next sip for the sake of her poor tongue.

“I don’t mean to be nosy, but you left me curious about what you meant.” Upon hearing the question, Mari bit her bottom lip and glanced away from him.

“I’m not sure either. Can we even have a ‘home’ here?” She glanced back towards him, half expecting him to think she was a nutjob speaking nonsense. Instead, she found a gentle smile on his face.

“We can’t have it here, not with what and who we can’t change. However, I am of the belief that we can create something similar. A ‘not exactly’ home,” Mr. Keaton replied confidently. Mari chuckled at his clumsy phrasing.

“A ‘not exactly’ home? I guess that’s a fitting way to describe it. I like it. In that case, how does one create a ‘not exactly’ home?”

“Well, you said there’s something better than ‘what home is to you’ here, right? Try to figure-” Mr. Keaton paused at Mari’s widening eyes. “Is everything alright?”

“No... Um... Yes.” Mari turned her gaze to the other half of the room. “Mind telling me what that stage is for? I couldn’t find anything mentioning performances.” He furrowed his brows at the stark change in topic, but obliged her anyway.

Mr. Keaton explained the area was indeed meant for performances, though guests were still allowed to sit there whenever they preferred. The stage was installed recently and hadn’t actually gotten any use. The eventual goal was to have some sort of event every week, but getting musicians to come to such an isolated location even once in a while proved to be difficult. Most musicians bothering to perform in person typically stuck to the same few places. It was already rare for places to gather enough people to warrant a performance.

“Not to be rude, but do you really get enough customers for that?”

“We have our regulars.”

“Ohhh. So, maybe instead of being a ghost, it’s just that you can see them.”

“You really don’t want to know my name, do you, miss?” Mr. Keaton frowned and leaned in towards Mari. “I’ll have you know we have lots of regulars. They’re just not here right now. They’re not ghosts, and they’re much nicer than you, too.”

Mari grinned, moving forward to meet him. “I guess I’ll have to come again to see them then. Do they only show up at midnight?”

“No. I guess they saw you walk in and decided not to come. I might just have to ban you for disrupting business.”

“Business? Does that involve scaring your guests?” Mr. Keaton sighed at that retort.

“Fine Fine... You win. All my customers are ghosts, and I was simply trying to greet them earlier.”

“I knew it.” Mari giggled and sat back. “So when do your regulars actually show up?”

“Depends, but our busiest tends to be on Friday nights.”

“Busy enough to warrant performances, huh? I’ll have to check it out sometime. I think I need... this feeling... from time to time.” Mr. Keaton smiled softly before letting out a chuckle.

“I can’t say I fully get why it’s the case or that I have a fraction of a clue what you mean, but I’m glad you seem to like it here so much.”

Mari beamed at him, “Well, Mr. Keaton, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who will never quite get it.”

“What do you mean?” Mr. Keaton stared at her cluelessly. Mari gleefully tilted her head side to side, enjoying his confusion.

“Right. I should head out. I really don’t want to miss the train.” Mr. Keaton grew a sadistic smirk as soon as the word “train” left Mari’s lips.

“The train? Pfft. Well, good luck with that.”

“Why?”

“Guess.” Mr. Keaton took in her despairing expression a bit before throwing her a bone. “It seems like they never updated the station’s schedule online. Well, I guess it’s already surprising they even still run it. It’s done for the day.”

“That’s...”

“Well, I guess I could put you up for the night. That is, if you’re alright with those ghost customers of mine.”

“...Please.”