Coffee Stained Pages. Part 1. Lilla Somn

fusses, but there is a grave cold and stillness inside it. Everyone’s gone. To a better place. Empty body, empty mind. No more bold ideas. No more tries. It has not led to good results.

      What’s left will perform tasks and do what is necessary, but no more.

      So Ami has escaped. Mentally.

      “Wake her up when it’s over’.

      This breakdown came after her failed attempt to get a job in Prime.

      Was it her fault? Yes and no. If she had witchcraft skills, things could be different, she could be a student or a service woman in any witch city she likes.

      She wouldn’t even have to escape her hometown. She would have simply been thrown out of here by her neighbours and relatives. And they would even give us some food for the journey. Exile would at least be an unequivocal, direct and explicit rejection. No half measures, no manipulations.

      They just go. There’s not that awkward case when nobody’s interested in your presence, but nobody wants you to leave. Your relatives and homeland suddenly desperately need you. You might be useful in different weird ways. To look better against your background at least.

      Since time immemorial, all Kantinians with witchcraft gifts have been banished.

      “Don’t expect any good from a witch,” they said.

      Well. Ami would expect. She was jealous of the exiled witches.

      It could be like an endless holiday. You were kicked outside the Kantine and there’s no choice – stay in the familiar warmth of your swamp or get out – but one – where to go next.

      Most chose obvious Prime to develop their skills and find a new place in their suddenly broadened horizons.

      Exiled ones became the very witches, whose services proud Kantinians used in critical cases, forgetting about their dislikes and beliefs, their “unshakable’ traditions that were the bedrock of family and society.

      Yeah. Comfort is much more important.

      Ami could be one of the fortunate few… no, she couldn’t. Don’t believe the ones who tell you you can do everything. No you can’t.

      Because life is life and everything’s not that optimistic and joyful as it first seemed, that’s what you learn when you grow up.

      Without work, there is nothing to do in any big city. If you do not benefit the place and its inhabitants, no one will register you as a citizen or give you temporary accommodation.

      Parasites are not welcomed anywhere. And as an ignoramus, you will soon find yourself back in the Kantine, again and again, and there is enough work for everyone, plenty of agrarian jobs in one of the largest city-states.

      (and the most boring. According to Ami).

      Of course, there are other options… Zeth, Lim and… just a deep Forest. Here, without human society as the main source of constant stress, everything gets easier.

      The outcast feels kind of loved and supported here. Finally. Don’t know why, but it’s fine not knowing, it’s just fine here.

      All these jumps, antics and attempts to escape or settle down somewhere else now look simply ridiculous. It’s good to be here. Sociophobic Amelia had troubles with people. And people are in every city. And so the problems are.

      It won’t magically get better anywhere except in the forest, of course. She knew it somewhere deep inside. Everything will be the same in Omill and everywhere else.

      She will bring herself and her depression everywhere. It will never be easier anywhere she goes.

      New attempts to catch on and adapt, new awkward situations that contribute to uniformly covering oneself with shame from head to toe. Not as plentiful as on the first visits… but still in a fairly thick layer.

      There’s no magic land and no perfect people. She will always be just a rejected weirdo everywhere. For everyone. Because it is how it is.

      That’s why the main skill is to choose yourself, no matter what. Be the closest to yourself, because there is no one closer.

      At least this thing is under control. So. One can come to terms with all this.

      At least she has a home. At least she has a job. At least she’s an adult and can already argue a lot. And if she tries (to bite her tongue sometimes basically), she could even be finally accepted by family and neighbours.

      And this seems to suit everyone. Her relatives have the workforce, and Ami has some stability. And she’s not disgracing herself more than usual here. It happens in old familiar ways.

      So be it. She is still a Kantinian and values comfort and safety too. More than any abstract things.

      Is this adulthood? Hmm. A frightening prospect, if you look at the local adults, faded from hard work and monotonous life.

      That’s why this damned medium-urgent appointment to Omill looks double tempting, even if it contradicts a previously made “mature” decision…

      What did she feel when the opportunity she was looking for came to her and poked her into her hands?

      Grief. The most real grief. Intense bitterness and all-consuming resentment.

      And now, more than anything else, she would like to throw this unsolicited handout from fate back into her maliciously laughing face.

      “Take it and choke. Why even bother?! Why now?! I accepted my way and my life. I’m weak and tired. And desireless. There’s no joy or passion in it anymore… It’s pure mockery.”

      But… Don’t be so bitter. Maybe we shouldn’t. It’s a… small mockery, you know. Just for half a large cycle…

      …That’s enough to make gnats laugh!..

      What can be accomplished in half a cycle?!

      “Ah… really. What? Well… for example…

      You could come back to admire the wonderful giant landmark mushrooms, lovingly grown in the city by witches, softly shimmering in different colours at sunset.

      Drink refreshing drinks with local water…”

      Yesss… By the way, the difference is striking! Sacred water, revered even by elves we have never seen, gives to all omillian dishes and drinks a special, unique fresh and slightly sweet taste. You won’t find anything like this anywhere, not joking.

      “That’s my point.”

      …May it all fly away to bog with gnats and swampers, anyway…

      “Hold your gnats, Amelia. Do you remember that amazing huge lake?”

      Of course she did. One can never forget such magnificence.

      A huge pool of delicious life-giving water near the mountain. It inevitably made this city the capital of drinks and a place of pilgrimage for all those who tried once and became obsessed with Omill’s coffee.

      Of course, the famous Omill green and ground coloured coffee was delivered to all the cities of the Mainland… But it lost a huge share of its flavour bouquet and witchiness, being served not fresh, just picked, not with local water and not according to any old selva recipe. And, on her own behalf, Ami would add that without being drunk at a street table in one of the many coffee shops in Omill under a huge landmark mushroom decorated with coloured lanterns. And also without local sweets – pressed from wild nuts, cereals, and berries.

      …And let it all fall into the swamps…

      “Ami? Can I talk to Ami, please?”

      …Eat all the six-mouthed monsters…

      “I already got the point. Stop it. How about… admiring the dark-skinned, smiling, joyful and slightly arrogant selvas?”

      They are good looking ones. And, as if this were not enough, they are great singers and dancers, weavers, coffee