A history assignment that determines the future…
Billy has two more days to get his history assignment in or he doesn’t graduate college. Doesn’t get his NASA internship. And worst of all, disappoints his mother. On his third try, if he fails the class this time, all his plans crumble. He must pass history and graduate or his entire future goes up in smoke.
And this single history project stands between him and all those plans.
Well, the paper and staying awake long enough to get it done. The need for caffeine lures him into the café. Where he hopes to make at least some progress.
But strange things happen at the café. And sometimes the future needs a little nudge.
STRANGE THINGS ARE AFOOT AT THE CAFE is available to read for free until the 1st of March, when another story will be posted. For readers who would prefer to read on a device of preference, or who would like their own personal eBook of this story, you can find it here.
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Strange Things are Afoot at The Café
A Café Story
Billy walked into the bright, great smelling interior of the coffee shop with a lot of worries on his mind and a desperate need for coffee driving him. If he fell asleep before he finished his assignment, he’d never pass his history class. And if he didn’t pass his history class, he’d have to take it again, which would mean not graduating on time, which would mean he’d have to give up the internship at NASA, which would mean sacrificing years of work, which would mean he’d disappoint his mom.
And that would about kill him.
He needed to pass this class. He needed to graduate on time. He needed to get on with his life.
He wanted to make his mom proud.
And all of that required he stay awake right now so he could finish his history assignment.
At this stage, that might require more than coffee. He wasn’t a hard drugs kind of guy, but one of those super caffeinated drinks was definitely within the realms of possibility. He hated them. Thought they tasted thick and horrible. But a guy had to do what a guy had to do.
He was going to give coffee a try first, though. Maybe something with a lot of sugar in it. His mom would be appalled and he would tease her about how he was going to be bouncing off the walls. But having a mother stationed on the International Space Station for almost a year made those kinds of casual teasing arguments harder.
Thinking about her made him miss her, and reminded him of how close he was to disappointing her, so he refocused on the coffee.
The coffee shop was a nice one. Attached to a bookstore through a big archway in one wall. Mom would love that. The coffee shop was light and airy, lots of wood everywhere, but not dark and broody. Big front windows let in the spring sunshine and were decorated with chalk flowers and vines. The counter was topped with those see-through cake covers over delicious-looking pastries that made his stomach rumble. A croissant or a piece of chocolate cake sounded really good right now. His laptop would survive a few crumbs.
He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d had a decent meal. Saturday, maybe? And it was now… Wow, he wasn’t sure. He knew his assignment was due in two days and he was only halfway through. Maybe. Might be less than halfway. Okay, he still had a bunch of the research to read and analyze or whatever. Which meant a lot of work and writing an entire massive essay in less than forty-eight hours on a topic that wasn’t his area of expertise. The assignment was due on Friday. So this had to be Wednesday.
Shit. He’d better get some real food into him soon or his gut was going to explode. His mother would be scolding him to take better care of himself. Not that she wouldn’t do that when she got back. And she was one to talk. He could still remember being a kid and watching her up late studying, working hard to get her place in NASA. Then working even harder to get into the astronaut program. She’d never skipped a meal, that he remembered, but then he’d been a kid so he didn’t know for sure. He did know she skipped out on sleep regularly.
But she expected him to take better care of himself. He was letting her down.
He’d fix that, though. Fix all of it. He just had to get this assignment in on time and make sure it didn’t suck so hard he failed the class. This was his third attempt at passing a stupid history class, a requirement for his degree that still seemed maddening. He didn’t dismiss history as a valid and good subject. It was just not his forte and he’d have preferred tinkering with his designs and building his inventions. Writing made his head hurt.
Okay. Coffee first. And some sugar. He’d eat a good meal tonight. Probably give him the energy he needed for yet another all-nighter. But now sugar and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.
At the counter, a woman in a green apron, with her dark hair pulled up onto her head in a bun asked for his order. Next to the counter, an absolutely enormous gray cat sat curled on a three-legged wooden stool that was clearly too small for him and yet he fit. An impressive show of defying physics by the cat. Billy smiled and the cat purred so he gave it a little scratch around the ears as he ordered a very extra strong coffee with lots of sugar and a croissant—his concession to “real” food since it wasn’t a giant slice of chocolate cake. Though he might still get the cake.
“To stay or go?” the woman asked.
“Stay.” He frowned at her. “Is it okay if I sit here for a while?” He didn’t do the thing where he went to coffee shops and sat for ages typing on his laptop. Were there rules around that? He seemed to recall Dora telling him she bought a coffee every hour when she took up a seat at a café to write.
The woman behind the counter gave him a friendly, encouraging smile. “You can stay as long as you like. That’s no problem at all.”
“Thanks.” He found himself about to spill all his worries and troubles to her and clamped his mouth shut. She was working and didn’t have time to hear how he was on the verge of failing a class he really really needed to pass. But something about her and the gentle purring of the ginormous cat loosened his reserve.
He gave his head a little shake and paid for his order, then went to find a seat. There were a lot of round wooden tables with wooden chairs scattered throughout the center of the coffee shop. Around the edges were cushioned couches and chairs surrounding low tables, making up nooks that looked like they belonged in people’s living rooms. He was tempted by a comfy chair or couch but was afraid getting too comfortable would put him to sleep. So he picked one of the tables in the middle of the room, with a straight-backed chair. It was still a surprisingly comfortable chair for something hard and made out of wood, but it wasn’t so comfortable he wanted to take a nap in it.
There were about a dozen people scattered around the coffee shop, most of them sitting alone and doing their own thing. There was a table near the front of the café with two people sitting together in cushioned chairs across a low coffee table, leaning forward and talking intensely. But everyone else had their faces in books or laptops or the one guy sitting in between the register counter and the front window quietly playing a guitar.
Billy was very tempted to go ask the guy about his guitar, what he was playing, did he write music… But even he recognized the procrastination tactic for what it was. He’d procrastinated enough.
Time to work.
He opened his laptop, opened the first document he had to re-read for the thousandth time to get the information he needed. He should take notes. Dora was always telling him to have a notebook and take notes. But that felt awkward and harder than just rereading the article. Dora was his artist best friend, the person he’d known all his life who knew him almost as well as his mother knew him. She passed her history and English classes with flying colors. And her math classes. He probably should listen to her when she gave him advice. Sometimes he wondered why he didn’t. It wasn’t because he didn’t trust her advice.
Sometimes, he thought maybe he was trying to sabotage himself. Not because he didn’t want to work at NASA. Not because inventing and building new things for space exploration weren’t his life and everything he wanted to do. He wasn’t sure why he kept doing things the hard way. His mom said he was always like that, always having to learn through trial and error, couldn’t just be told the better path. It made him great at the invention part of things, but less great at getting things he didn’t want to do done in an efficient way.
And, he realized, he was staring at his laptop still not getting the work done. Again.
He focused on the article, and this time he did take notes, albeit they were copy paste notes into a document on his computer which, Dora promised him, was less helpful, but at least it was something. His coffee and croissant arrived a few minutes later and he took a break from the two paragraphs he’d read to gulp down the coffee—which was perfect—and eat the croissant—which settled his churning stomach.
He found his mind wandering to a better way to build an espresso machine, or at least a more interesting way to build an espresso machine, and twenty minutes had passed without him getting work done. With a groan, he buckled down again. About halfway through the article, and feeling like he was actually getting somewhere with the research and where it fit in his overall thesis and how he might write this part of the essay, he realized the giant cat from beside the register was sitting on the chair across from him, purring like a motorboat. Loud, but steady, and it was the best white noise background Billy had ever encountered. Perfect level of noise.
At one stage in the work, he found a fresh coffee at his elbow, and drank it gratefully. He’d have to remember to leave a good tip. And to pay for the extra drink. He started to wander down another mental side road about whether the coffees were actually bottomless and if so that was a super idea but it might bankrupt the place if college students found out about that offer. But he pulled his thoughts back together after a minute, and went back to reading.
He was on to the writing part, attempting to coral all the research into a coherent thesis, an essay with a point, when he realized he was missing some key information if he wanted to make the point he was trying to make. The research he’d gathered wasn’t quite enough.
Shit. He logged in and search the college library’s database for his topic, looking through their list of books and research articles. He was going to have to head back to campus to find what he needed. Except… Well, he’d developed a Pavlovian response to the college library. He went in, and he ended up asleep, face down in a book in one of the back corners. The whole reason he wasn’t working in the library now was because it put him to sleep.
He couldn’t afford to sleep. Not yet. He’d been making so much progress in the café. He could actually see where he was going and what he was doing now. The first time since this stupid assignment had been handed out that he knew what he was writing about. Mostly. But he was missing something. He was sure he was missing something.
Billy blinked a few times, refocusing on his surroundings, when the chair across from his scrapped lightly across the wooden floor and an older man sat down across from him.
“Hope you don’t mind me taking a seat,” the man said with a kind smile. “It’s a bit crowded in here.”
Billy glanced around. Sure enough, it had gotten crowded while he was working. He hadn’t paid attention. He looked down at the coffee mug next to him, thinking he’d better order another to pay for his seat, only to see it was still half full. He’d order a fresh one in a minute. The cat had wandered off, too, at some point, and was now sitting beside the guy playing the guitar. Billy would swear the cat was bobbing its head to the music.
“What are you working on?” the man across from him asked, dragging Billy’s attention back.
The man was older, maybe in his fifties, though it was kind of hard to tell. He was a white guy with salt and pepper hair cut loose but neat. He was wearing an almost old-fashioned looking suit, brown and cut to fit a wider body, with a blue embroidered vest and a pocket watch on a silver chain that the man checked once before replacing. He had a full mustache and beard that were trimmed neatly and close to his face. And he wore a pair of small round glasses that sat too low on his nose to be useful.
His smile was kind, and his expression interested. And for some reason, he reminded Billy of his favorite chemistry teacher in high school even though this guy looked nothing like Mr. Maddocks. Weird.
Billy let out a rough breath and ran a hand through his hair, wincing when he realized he hadn’t showered in a few days. “History assignment for college,” he said. “Essay on the influence of Greek philosophers on the Roman Empire. History’s not really my strong suit, though.”
“Ah. Very interesting thesis. And a very interesting period in history. Lot of time to cover. Which philosophers are your focus?”
That was part of the problem. The instructions for the assignment were really broad and he’d had a really hard time settling on an angle. He couldn’t write about every Greek philosopher individually. This was an essay not a book. And he had a hard time deciding if he should be real general, or get specific, or just use a few philosophers. Or what direction to go. He’d only started to really settle on a focus sitting here in the coffee shop. Which was why he didn’t have some of the information he needed.
“I picked a few philosophers whose names are familiar and I’m trying to write about them. Like Socrates and Plato. But…yeah. I don’t know if I’m doing what the professor wants us to do.”
“I see.” The man nodded. “Well, I do know a thing or two about Socrates and Plato. Perhaps I can help.”
“Really?” Billy frowned. That would be pretty coincidental. But coincidences happened. It might not really help at all, but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to talk about his ideas and about some of what he’d been trying to write with someone who actually knew who Socrates was.
The man grinned. “Dust in the wind, dude.”
Billy’s frown deepened. “Huh?”
“Never mind,” the man said. “Old movie.” He frowned. “Or recent… No, from this time period it’s old. So, what would you like to discuss?”
Billy launched into some of what he’d been writing. And as it happened, the man actually seemed to know a lot about Socrates. Like, stuff Billy hadn’t encountered in any of the articles he’d found, like Socrate’s favorite flower. A weird fact to know, and maybe the guy was just making that up, but Billy didn’t have to use that fact.
The nice woman from behind the counter came over and brought them more coffee, which Billy insisted on paying for since the guy was helping him more than Billy could have expected. The woman gave the man a curious look and said, “Have you been in before? I’m sorry, you seem familiar but…”
The man said, “I think we meet a week from now?” He glanced around, then nodded. “No. Two months ago. This is one of my favorite places.”
None of that made sense to Billy, but he was also exhausted, living on caffeine, and maybe a little delirious. The nice woman looked a little dubious but she just smiled and went back to the counter.
Billy and the man, who introduced himself as Henry, went back to discussing Greek philosophers.
Henry was a natural born storyteller, because he talked about ancient Greece like he’d been there. The details and information were so vivid and visceral, Billy could practically feel the warm Athen’s air, smell the roasting meats in the market, hear the voices of all the citizens walking down marble-lined streets. A cart rumbling past. A small group of soldiers marching through an open market. The sea in the distance. Socrates standing in front of his students in an open courtyard circled with greenery and overhung with shade trees. Questions he asked, answers from his pupils, and the ways he responded to those answers. Billy imagined a lot of animated yelling and discussion.
At some point during the conversation, Billy started taking notes in a clean document—Dora would be proud he was at least taking notes—then he started writing. He couldn’t clearly remember the transition between talking and writing. But before he knew it, the essay was falling out of his fingers. The appropriate references were there, too. Things he’d missed that he’d already collected and saved onto his laptop.
He looked up and realized he had an actual draft. He still needed to fill in some details. And he had to write the opening and concluding paragraphs. But…he had an essay. Something that he could finish and turn in on time. And it wasn’t half bad. It actually made sense.
His fingers and lower back hurt when he leaned away from his laptop, his eyes were starting to go a little fuzzy. He blinked hard and looked around as he tried to remember what had been happening before he started writing and everything started coming so easily.
The man! Henry. The one who’d been talking him through the history. He’d been telling Billy stories that had really stuck. Made him feel like he’d been in ancient Greece. That had broken up Billy’s inability to visualize what he was trying to do in the essay. He looked around, but Henry was gone. He couldn’t remember him leaving, though he had this vague memory of Henry checking the silver pocket watch in his vest pocket. But he’d been so focused he wasn’t even sure if he was remembering that or if he was imagining he’d seen that.
He was exhausted now. But not in the desperate to stay awake way he’d been when he’d come into the café. He realized he had time to clean up what he’d written, finish it, and still get some sleep. Maybe even have a real meal.
It was dark outside now, so he must have been there for hours. No wonder his back was aching.
He closed up his laptop after carefully saving and backing up his essay and all the highlighted articles and notes he had. He swung past the counter to ask how much he owed—he honestly couldn’t remember how many cups of coffee he’d had.
“You’re all good,” the woman said. “Your friend paid for the last round.”
Billy was pretty sure there’d been more than one round with Henry, but he was so fuzzy, he couldn’t be certain. He dropped a few extra dollars in the tip jar. Gave the big gray cat a scratch. Then headed back out into the warm evening spring air. For the first time in months, he felt like he might finally just pass this class.
His mom was going to be so proud.
***
Henry stepped up to the counter and paid Nina for the drinks he’d shared with Billy, though she looked a little confused. She shook her head, took his money, then gave him a speculative look. “That young man…?”
Henry smiled. “A very clever engineer and inventor. He’s going to develop a radiation filtration system for space vehicles that will, among other things, one day save his mother’s life, as well as a number of other astronauts. Then he’ll go on to revolutionize space propulsion systems. His inventions will be the basis for significant advances in space travel for humans. Advances that will take significantly longer to achieve without his input. That’s still some years off, of course. And the future is always…mutable. But if he didn’t graduate at this moment in time, he wouldn’t be in a position to create the designs that will save lives and change the world.”
“That’s…” Nina narrowed her eyes, looked out the window where the young man had disappeared, then glanced back at Henry and smiled. “That’s excellent. Sounds like he’s going to have a very adventurous life.”
“Yes,” Henry said with a satisfied nod. “A most excellent life.”
***
Thanks for reading STRANGE THINGS ARE AFOOT AT THE CAFE. I hope you enjoyed it!
My fellow Gen Xers or anyone who's a fan of Keanu Reeves and Alex Winters might recognize both the title and the references in the story. If you don't, that's fine! I hope you enjoyed the story without that background. But if you'd like to know what was in the back of my mind when that title occurred to me, go watch Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. (grin) Also, those who have seen the movie and are wondering where Ted was...Ted "Theodore" Logan got a glow up (Dora--get it? Theodora? LOL),
Anyway, inside jokes to amuse myself aside, I hope you enjoyed the story. If you’d like your own personal eBook copy of this story, you can find it for sale here. You can also peruse the previous Café stories that are individually available for sale here.
And if you've missed any of the 2025 stories and want to catch up with the whole lot of them at once, pick up STORIES FROM THE CAFE: VOLUME ONE and VOLUME TWO! Out in eBook and all print formats now.
And don’t forget to check back on March 1st for the next Free story from The Café!
STRANGE THINGS ARE AFOOT AT THE CAFE Copyright © 2026 Kat Simons
All Rights Reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.