CITY OF DEVILS

“What can I get you two?” The waitress asked us. Rashida and I are inside this late-night diner in Hollywood. It has this old school feel to it. The music is from the 50s and 60s, there is a jukebox inside, and the uniforms are clearly a throwback.

“I’ll have a cup of coffee.” I said.

“Make that two.” Rashida said. “Mine with crème please.”

“Two coffees, one with crème coming right up.”

As the waitress walks away, I start to look at Rashida a bit. I do not understand her. I can tell that she isn’t human. At all. She has just taken over some poor woman’s body and is acting. But it seems as though her performance is good enough as no seems to feel that something is up. Or perhaps they do feel something is amiss but do not care enough to say or do anything about it.

“You drink coffee?” I asked.

“I noticed that a lot of humans do it. I don’t understand it though. I don’t like the taste at all. What is the appeal?”

“Maybe everyone has the same motive as you.”