Work Text:
An owl, a jaguar, and an anteater walk into a café. They leave behind cold twilight to embrace soft piano, serene stillness, and the earthy scent of ground coffee. A mustachioed pigeon cleans a white porcelain cup with a spotless white cloth at his post behind the bar. There is no indication that anybody has been here for hours, yet he cleans this cup as if he has just gotten it back from a customer. The friends take the three stools at the bar and order. They say very little, and the silence they create is familiar and comfortable. According to the clock on the wall it is two in the morning, and the four animals inhabiting this space together are likely the only ones still awake in this quiet little town. That’s fine, they thought. Each preferred the night anyway.
The pigeon steps in front of the companions and delivers the sweet reward for their moonlit journey. They all decide to take some time to let their drinks cool, much to the chagrin of the barista. He says nothing save a simple, “Enjoy…” followed by a soft coo, and continues his methodical polishing of the cup, never tiring of his task.
It was hard to feel rushed in a place like this.
Overhead lighting gives a soft familiar feeling to the area despite being the very same kind that harshly illuminated the artificiality of Tom Nook’s showroom. The looping score is soothing and hypnotic where in any other setting it would have been grating and distracting. The all-wood décor and gyroid motif has an easy charm to it that would have felt canned or corny had anyone but Brewster picked it out. This is everyone’s favorite spot in town despite being empty for most of the day. Everything about the little sanctuary is as improbable as it is perfect.
It was hard to feel unwelcome in a place like this.
The three friends look into their cups and see passion.
“This swirl of milk looks just like the Andromeda galaxy,” remarks Celeste.
“Yes… I see the stars in sugar granules,” replies Katrina.
“Stirring coffee with a spoon is like stirring up old memories in a dream,” sighs Luna.
With that exchange the three friends sip their drinks and slip back into companionable quiet. Each is occupied with their own thoughts. Each has their head in the clouds for a different reason. Each is so, so grateful to have found each other in a world that, for the most part, didn’t understand them. Nobody cared about stars and constellations, too preoccupied with what was in front of them to think about what was above them. Nobody wondered about the fantastic and the ethereal, cynicism consuming any space left out for mystery like weeds choking out a flower garden. Nobody thought about dreams, so wrapped up in their waking lives that they neglected to examine their heart’s desires. There was melancholy in this peacefulness, but it paled next to the simple joy that came from being with loved ones.
It was hard to feel empty in a place like this.
The three continued on like this for a good long while, idle chatter dipping into existentialism looping back around to enthusiastic banter about the finer points of their hyper-fixations all punctuated with small sips from little white cups. The only bad thing about this haven was the owner’s “one cup per day” policy. That’s fine, they thought. In good company a single cup could last a lifetime.
When all was said and done, the clock read five in the morning. Townsfolk would be waking up soon, some eager for a morning cup of joe and some just eager to start a new day. Soon the spell would be broken, and each woman would have to return to her daily routine. They were reluctant to leave this cozy little bubble of quiet, but they all knew it was inevitable. On the off chance that someone would need them today, they all wanted to be at their respective posts. They all loved helping, no matter how infrequently. Each drains her cup and puts it back on her saucer, paying the pigeon his small fee of 200 bells per cup. It really was a mystery as to how this place stayed open. After a brief exchange of thank-yous, the three friends crowd in front of the door, bracing themselves for the larger world.
It was hard to leave a place like this.
Eventually they did, though. They went back to their own separate worlds, a little bit colder and a little bit lonelier than they were in those early hours. No matter, they thought. There was always next evening, and in the meantime they would still be together.
In the interim before nightfall, Celeste will doze and dwell on her dreams, unlocking the mysteries of her own mind while trying to figure out if it’s possible to lucid dream standing up. Katrina will meditate and align her spirit with the universe, all while consulting handmade star charts and thinking fondly about the one who crafted them for her. Luna will continue to dream with her eyes open, dwelling less on concerns brought up by her subconscious and more on the cosmic and unexplainable, finding solace in her relatively small place in the universe and the fact that not all answers reside within her.
They will be in each other’s hearts, making each other happier despite their absence.
It’s hard to feel sad when you have people like that.