Hangout. Our time is always too short

Astrid eyes light up before they gloss over. She hides her melancholy thoughts with a flashy smile. She swallows, trying to hide her gaze as she finds her composure. You exhale, feeling her emotion in its proper form for only a moment. There’s a side of you that wants nothing more than to be with Astrid, you’ve expressed that many times before, but she never gives you the desired or expected feedback. There are things you’ll never understand, and you don’t think you should waste the little time you have now to attempt to.

With Astrid close to you, you leave the library and stroll down the city. Much like before, everything vibrates and is in perfect harmony. You’d never been to a place like this in your regular life, but it felt like this kind of world was the only one you knew. You felt the warmth of Astrid as she held on to your harm and felt similar about her, too. Everything was right, and there wasn’t anything wrong in years. You continued walking until you reached a quieter part of the city.

Astrid had led you straight to a massive skyscraper called “Heaven’s House.”

You were able to piece it together. You were at a hotel and looked at her. “You’ve taken us to a hotel?”

Astrid looks puzzled at first, then screws her eyes up at the building. A relaxed chuckle leaves her mouth before a warm exhale. “Huh, it would seem I have. I had wonderful food here, and I hear their suites are to die for!”

“Can I pay for this?”

“Money is hardly an object for anyone here,” she pushes you forward. “You just have to ask nicely to get the things you want.”

Even though you knew Astrid was incapable of lying, you felt like this was a joke. So you went inside and spoke to a dapper man behind a desk to ask for a table for two.

Despite the lobby looking not-so-busy, you thought you were going to be rejected. To your surprise, however, the man smiled and bowed, telling you that he’ll take you to a table with an “incredible view for you and your date.”

Incredible view was a poor phrase to explain the view you were given. As soon as you stepped through the doors, you were somewhere above the skyline. The city below you was ignited in the warm electric glow of the lights. It was snowing, but the snow never touched you or any of the dozens of occupied tables.

You were seated near the edge, there was no railing or guard, but there was no fear of falling. The man gave you two leather-bound menus and bowed again. Astrid slid into her seat and opened the menu. She looked elegant without trying, but you no longer feel out of her league. She was so familiar in your eyes that she had easily been your wife of 20 years.

You sat across from her and looked at the menu. Everything was your favorite, and the descriptions matched where you had them for the first time and why they were your favorites.

“Mexican Style Gyro,” you read out loud, grinning. “Made by a fellow caravan guard during Warren’s first caravan gig, this was an unexpected treat after a long day of river crossing and storm traveling. Served with pork, Mexican seasoning, and fresh pineapple.”

Astrid nodded. “I was looking at Father’s Soup. A dozen contracts were in, and the pallet was out. But, even after traveling far from home, one shouldn’t forget his roots! Father’s Soup is made fresh with chicken, beans, corn, and onions— you’ll never forget the stomach-warming effect of this heart-warming dish.”

You pointed at the menu. “That’s good!”

She laughs. “I would hope so. But this is all about you!”

You sat back and looked at the menu. The drinks. The desserts. It was all about you. Everything. Even the girl in front of you was for you. “What should we have?” Astrid looked at you, waiting for your answer.