‘I can’t lie, I’ve been struggling,’ she admitted, surprised by her relief at saying it out loud. ‘I used to star in a big brand coffee commercial with my family—Maple Gold. Maybe you’ve heard of it? It was a great time of my life. But lately, everything’s felt off-kilter. My marriage is falling apart, my daughter and I seem to be speaking different languages, and every audition feels like a door slamming in my face. I’d love some joy in my life again.’
‘My coffee can help.’ Iris said sagely. ‘I can make a special brew just for you, if you’d like. It offers a unique experience . . .’
Greta was still tempted to grab a drink elsewhere, where the barista wouldn’t make her feel like she was taking a philosophy exam. She considered leaving, but this place intrigued her. ‘What exactly is thisexperience?’she asked.
Iris held her gaze. ‘It’s a reflection of what’s inside you,’ she said. ‘Drinking the coffee can take you to a place shaped by your memories—where you can encounter the things you miss, the choices you wonder about, the longing you don’t even realise you carry. A place that feels real, because in some ways it is. If you drink the coffee, you’ll access the life you think you want.’
Greta frowned. ‘But, that’s . . . absurd. How can a coffee do all that? Is it like time travel?’
Iris smiled knowingly. ‘No, not time travel. It’s like holding up a mirror to what’s already there, but seeing a different reflection.’
As if on cue, a vintage Maple Gold commercial sprang to life onto Iris’s TV. A lady with coiffed hair raised a coffee and winked, as if inviting Greta to join her.
Greta gulped. Was it just a coincidence? She curled her fingers tightly into her palms. Never one to back away from a challenge, she said, ‘Yes, please, I’ll stay.’
‘Then please take a seat in the booth.’
Iris slid a wooden ladder across the shelves and climbed it with surprising ease. She balanced on one leg to reach for several jars. Selecting items from each, she crushed and mixed the coffee blend in her jade bowl. After tipping the mix into a small glass jar, she handed it to Greta. There was an illustration of a white rabbit on the label.
Greta turned the jar around to read the instructions.
May cause overwhelming happiness, second cha nces, disorientation, confusion, and emotional echoes
‘What are emotional echoes?’ she asked.
‘You might experience ashift.Memories and emotions can blend together to create something . . . new. Emotional echoes are like footprints in the sand. The tide may wash them away, but some impressions may remain.’
Greta supposed some of it made sense. ‘It is just coffee, isn’t it?’
‘Plus a few other ingredients.’ Iris nodded. ‘Now, think about what you really want. What isyourperfect blend?’ She placed an individual glass coffee-pot on the table, followed by a cup, saucer, spoon, and jug of hot water.
Greta stared at them, the steam curling toward her like an invitation. She had spent too long allowing frustration to shape her life. She wanted to rediscover what made her feel alive, what made her happy. If this coffee could give her a mere taste of that, she was willing to give it a go.
She flexed her fingers, then opened the jar.
Greta steadily spooned the coffee into the pot, then poured in the hot water, watching the dark liquid bloom as it brewed. After a couple of minutes, she plunged the filter and poured the coffee into her cup. All the while, the faint hum of old commercials played in the background.
Taking her first sip, Greta closed her eyes, letting the coffee warm her throat. The taste was unexpected, slightly woody with a hint of spice, and an unfamiliar note. At first, it seemed underwhelming, even a bit unpleasant. But then her taste buds sprang to life. A rush of sweetness followed, turning into something deeper and richer.
‘Think of your wish,’ Iris prompted. ‘As I said, no judgement here.’
Greta nodded and clasped her hands together. Thinking of something made her feel foolish. She knew this all must be a fantasy, but decided to throw herself into it anyway.
‘I just want to feel like myself again, to enjoy life like I used to,’ she told Iris. ‘I’ve worked hard, and I deserve a break, no more struggling and juggling.’
Iris sighed heavily. ‘That’s not really a wish, is it?’
‘I suppose not.’ Greta laughed.
Iris lowered her voice. ‘Just remember, imaginary doesn’t mean untrue. Sometimes the things we dream of tell us more about ourselves than the lives we actually live.’
Greta tried again, focusing on her coffee cup.
She thought of the Maple Gold commercials, the warmth of laughter, shared cups of coffee, the feeling of belonging, and the people she’d shared those things with.
And a wish finally came to her.
‘Iwishmy life could be perfect again, just like a coffee commercial . . . in Mapleville,’ Greta said aloud. She sat back in her seat.
