I jolted awake, heart hammering against my chest, gasping for air like I'd just escaped death itself. My throat burned—parched beyond measure. I grabbed my water bottle, the one I'd filled just before entering Iz's classroom, and chugged every drop as if it were the elixir of life. "Ahh! I'm dead! Am I in heaven or hell?"
To my left stood Iz, arms crossed, eyes narrowed—wearing that "Are you crazy? (with lots of swear words)" look.
"Oh. I became a spirit wandering around the world. And I dragged Iz with me? I'm such a horrible friend." I covered my face, on the verge of fake tears.
With a sigh heavy enough to shake the earth, Iz smacked me across the head. "Did the heat get to you and fry your brain? Not that there's much to fry," she mumbled.
I blinked. "Wait… You mean I'm not dead? No cuts? No scythe to the neck?" I grabbed Iz by the shoulders, rattling her with urgency.
Dizzy, Iz screeched, "I will make your wish come true if you keep shaking me like that! LET GO!"
I let her go with a relieved breath. "Sorry, Iz. That nightmare... it was too real."
Iz collapsed into her chair, massaging her temples. "You don't say. I could hear you screaming bloody murder from downstairs. You wouldn't wake up no matter what I did. What kind of nightmare was it?"
"The worst. The most vivid nightmare I've ever had." I paused. Silence wrapped the room like a heavy curtain.
Iz watched me, waiting.
I glanced at the classroom clock—it was well past our usual lunch hour. I scratched my head, dodging her gaze. "Hey, you hungry? Let's go to Uncle Simon's."
Uncle Simon's restaurant—a place that transcended generations. Nestled near Iz's house, it exuded warmth, nostalgia, and the kind of scent that clung to memories like a stubborn perfume. Their dishes were divine, the staff quirky and charming. It was the only place where time felt irrelevant.
"I'm hungry too after all the effort I spent trying to wake you. Which, by the way, you still haven't explained."
"Boy, you do know how to guilt-trip someone."
Iz crossed her arms, glaring.
I recoiled. "Okay, okay! I'll tell you. But after lunch. Your glare could freeze the Sahara. Chill, woman."
"You promise? If you dodge—"
I pushed her out of the classroom. "I promise! When have I ever broken one?"
Iz didn't miss a beat. "Always!"
As we trudged under the molten midday sun, a commotion stole our attention. A frenzy of housewives battled over some 90% off sales items, climbing over each other like a scene ripped straight out of a zombie film.
"Oui," I muttered. "I hope they don't actually turn into zombies."
"Don't jinx it, you little @#$%," Iz hissed.
I stared. "You just swore?"
Apparently, our last zombie flick scarred her more than I thought.
Iz, trembling, latched onto my arm and dragged me away from the chaos, steering us toward a detour.
[Uncle Simon's Restaurant]
The moment we stepped in, a familiar blend of classical music and hearty laughter welcomed us. Despite the time, the place still buzzed with life. The floral scent—ever-present. The floors—pristine as always.
We slipped into a seat just in time as more customers flowed in.
"Ming-ah~ 'The Usual' oh~." I waved to the ever-stealthy Ming.
He acknowledged with a nod and vanished into the kitchen.
I scanned the interior. "Hey… some of the furniture's changed. The old, musky tables and chairs—gone?"
Iz furrowed her brows. "Yeah… They've been replaced with modern ones. Doesn't match the vibe."
Out of nowhere—Ming.
"We're renovating," he said, balancing our dishes with ghost-like silence.
Iz and I jumped. "AHH!"
Ming chuckled and gently placed our food. "Here's your order, dear valuable customers."
I glared. "Would it kill you to make a sound? One of these days I'm going to keel over from shock."
Iz grabbed Ming, concern etched into her features. "Renovation? You're not shutting down, are you?"
"Not at all. Just refreshing the place. Some furniture broke. Time to let them go."
Iz sighed with relief.
I wasn't convinced. "Broke? We were here a week ago. Everything was fine. Unless someone got into a fight…"
"Lil. Stop," Iz warned. "The food's here."
I gave in and focused on the meal—until a thought struck.
"Hey, Iz. Don't you think it's weird how we've never questioned what 'The Usual' actually is? It changes every time."
Iz shrugged. "Maybe it's to entertain eccentric people like you."
I blinked, then nodded. "Checks out."
She scarfed down her meal with the speed of light. "You're asking too many questions. Is it about the dream?"
I coughed, shook my head. "I can't say here. Not in public. Let's go to your house."
Iz's eyes widened. "Lil! It's Friday! You're crashing again?"
"Weekends too," I grinned.
"Even if I said no, you'd still barge in."
I laughed, her grumbling music to my ears.
After paying, we stepped outside. As fate would have it, I bumped into a man in a dark coat and hat.
"Oh! Sorry! I didn't hit you hard, right?" I bowed in apology.
The man tilted his hat, smiling. "No worries. Just a light bump. Are you alright, young lady?"
I looked up—and froze. Something about him…
I stammered. "I-I-I…"
Iz jumped in, "She's fine. Sorry for the trouble."
The man nodded politely. "No harm done. Take care."
He walked into the restaurant.
Iz turned, smirking. "He's your type? Not bad. Didn't know you had such refined taste."
I looked back and murmured, "Not for a dead man, I do."
Iz halted. "What do you mean? He looks alive to me. You even bumped into him. Did your brain short out again?"
I shook my head, muttering. "I'll explain at your house. It's a long one. Creepy too. Might give you nightmares."
Iz groaned. "Why did I ask? Can I take it back?"
"Too late now, bestie~" I grinned.
She bent over, full of regret, as I skipped ahead, humming ominously.