Nova followed the young girl inside the shop. The café was warmer than Nova had expected. It wasn't exactly the heat, but instead the energy that was vibrating through the café. It was a mix of tired people with lukewarm conversations and overworked desk job workers, with the occasional burst of laughter, trying to break through and forget all the tension placed on them by society.
Talia guided him to a small, two-seater table near the back of the café. The kittens were tucked in their box, now wrapped in a soft scarf she'd pulled from her bag. Both of them sat down, looking over the menu, then Talia realized she had memorized the entire menu and didn't need to look at it. Nova scanned through everything, not recognizing anything other than water. So many dishes, yet no dime to spend on them, and flavor them.
"Stay here," Talia said. "I'll grab something for the cats." Then, Sarcastically: "And maybe something that doesn't look like it was woven by an ancient wizard."
Nova watched her with unreadable eyes as she left in awkwardness. Then he turned his focus to the window beside him. Outside, the world was moving faster than usual except for him. He touched the glass, half-expecting it to shift under his fingers. It didn't. It wouldn't. Not anymore.
He looked down at the table, a place so mundane, so profoundly mortal, and whispered: "So this is life without eternity."
When Talia returned, she brought clothes. Nothing fancy. Just a plain black hoodie, faded jeans, and a pair of clean boots.
"Here," she said, then grabbed an empty chair next to him, placing it there. "These should fit. You can use the restroom to change. Not ideal, but better than that shredded robe thing you got going on."
Nova stood and took the clothes silently. As he walked toward the restroom, he passed a mirror and froze in disbelief. He stared at himself long and hard. In his reflection. At his soul. There was no divine glow, no aura of destruction faintly radiating beneath his mortal skin. Just flesh. Hair slightly tangled. Eyes heavy. Shoulders slouched.
He looked… human. So, human.
His hands trembled slightly as he changed. The fabric was rougher than anything he was used to. It clung in places that felt unfamiliar. He cursed softly under his breath when the zipper confused him.
Then, alone in the narrow, dimly lit, dirty, smelly bathroom, he tried something he hadn't dared until now. He closed his eyes. He reached inward: to the soul. Calling the divinity within, the deep, unshakable well of cosmic energy that had always responded before.
But all he got was nothing.
He tried again. Still nothing.
Frustration bubbled beneath the surface. He slammed his fist into the wall, half out of rage, half out of desperation. The drywall cracked, and his knuckles tore open.
Blood. Not light. Not divine fluid.
Just blood.
He staggered back, holding his hand and staring at it like it betrayed him. Then he laughed, short, dry, and bitter. "I bleed," he muttered, voice low and disbelieving. "I bleed."
He ran his hand under cold water, gritting his teeth as the sting finally settled in. He regretted his decision at first, but then enjoyed the pain, as he knew what pain felt like for the first time. It was opening his eyes to a whole new world, again.
A knock ran through the door. It was Talia's voice, light and casual: "Is everything okay?"
Nova paused, as if getting caught, then replied calmly: "I'm learning."
---
Back at the table, Nova returned dressed in his new attire. Talia glanced at him with a smile. "You clean up nice."
He didn't answer. Instead, he sat, flexed his still-sore hand, and said: "The fabric is itching me."
"That's how you know it's real," she replied, sipping her coffee.
The kittens were fed now. Talia had bought a small packet of wet food and found a napkin to serve it on. They purred in delight, and Nova watched with quiet reverence.
"They don't know where they are," he said, his voice softer. "They've been taken from the shadows into light, but they don't understand what the light means."
Talia tilted her head. "You're kinda poetic. Weird poetic. But not bad."
Nova didn't answer. He stared at the kittens, a strange thought forming in the silence.
Maybe he wasn't so different from them after all.
They finished up their meal, getting out of their seats, as Nova grabbed the box. Talia paid for everything. She was more than happy to. They exited the café, just walking in the streets of Boston.
They walked in silence for a while. The city's energy vibrates all around them: horns, footsteps, someone arguing on the phone, the smell of fried food blending with cigarette smoke. Nova flinched at it all.
Everything was too much. Too loud. Too real. But the kittens in his arms purred, and that small, rhythmic sound grounded him. He ignored all the noises, turning off his schizophrenia, and kept on walking, as if he owned the world.
Talia also noticed his discomfort and nudged him gently with her elbow. "Hey, you good? You like someone who's never seen a city before."
"I haven't," Nova said, staring up at a blinking billboard. "Not like this."
"Where are you from, exactly?"
There was an initial pause, thinking of something to say, anything to say. "Farther than you think."
"Uh-huh," she said, unconvinced but too tired to push. "Well, welcome to Earth. We have overpriced apartments, weird politics, and a caffeine addiction."
Nova nodded.
"You get used to it." She glanced at him. "You're not dangerous, are you?"
He looked down at her, considering the question in a way that made her a little nervous. Then he said, honestly: "Not anymore."
That answer didn't comfort her. But she kept walking. She didn't look at him as she got suspicious, but realized, maybe she was just overthinking. She slightly glanced at Nova, who was playing with the kittens, with a bright smile on his face, calling them cute with a very soft and lovely voice.