Coffee, Me or Tea

Rising Sun

De: Wolfgang Ausserbauer

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

Coffee, Me, or Tea
The veranda was quiet, save for the soft clink of ceramic and the distant hum of vineyard insects waking to the sun. Fabienne stepped out first, barefoot, hair still damp from the shower. DocWolf followed, boots on, mug in hand, already scanning the horizon like it owed him a report.
Fabienne stretched once, then leaned against the railing. “So, what’s it going to be this morning? Coffee, me, or iced tea?”
DocWolf didn’t blink. “Coffee first. Then we see what the day wants.”
She smiled, not quite amused. “We survived the morning rush. Let’s earn the quiet.”
He took a slow sip, nodded once. “You need the caffeine. Yesterday’s flight in the Andromeda wasn’t gentle.”
Fabienne’s gaze drifted toward the southern ridge. “That shockwave—midway through descent. I felt it. Like the ship flinched.”
DocWolf lowered the mug. “It did—lateral compression. Hull held, but the vessel twisted. Almost flipped.”
She turned toward the cellar entrance. “Anubis ran a full diagnostic. Fermentation tanks are stable. No rupture. No contamination.”
DocWolf nodded again. “We log it. No speculation.”
The wind shifted slightly. Fabienne watched the vines ripple in rows—green, orderly, unbothered. “Still feels off. Like something didn’t pass through. It stayed.”
DocWolf didn’t answer. Not yet. He was watching the light—how it bent across the vineyard, how it lingered in places it usually didn’t.
“You may be feeling the time shift,” he said finally. “They don’t just move us. They leave residue. Déjà vu. Displacement. Sometimes it’s subtle. Sometimes it’s not.”
Fabienne exhaled slowly. “I slept, but I didn’t rest.”
DocWolf finished his coffee. “Then we walk the perimeter. Let the terrain speak.”
She nodded. “Coffee first. Then coherence.”
Coffee, Me, or Tea
The veranda was quiet, save for the soft clink of ceramic and the distant hum of vineyard insects waking to the sun. Fabienne stepped out first, barefoot, hair still damp from the shower. DocWolf followed, boots on, mug in hand, already scanning the horizon like it owed him a report.
Fabienne stretched once, then leaned against the railing. “So, what’s it going to be this morning? Coffee, me, or iced tea?”
DocWolf didn’t blink. “Coffee first. Then we see what the day wants.”
She smiled, not quite amused. “We survived the morning rush. Let’s earn the quiet.”
He took a slow sip, nodded once. “You need the caffeine. Yesterday’s flight in the Andromeda wasn’t gentle.”
Fabienne’s gaze drifted toward the southern ridge. “That shockwave—midway through descent. I felt it. Like the ship flinched.”
DocWolf lowered the mug. “It did—lateral compression. Hull held, but the vessel twisted. Almost flipped.”
She turned toward the cellar entrance. “Anubis ran a full diagnostic. Fermentation tanks are stable. No rupture. No contamination.”
DocWolf nodded again. “We log it. No speculation.”
The wind shifted slightly. Fabienne watched the vines ripple in rows—green, orderly, unbothered. “Still feels off. Like something didn’t pass through. It stayed.”
DocWolf didn’t answer. Not yet. He was watching the light—how it bent across the vineyard, how it lingered in places it usually didn’t.
“You may be feeling the time shift,” he said finally. “They don’t just move us. They leave residue. Déjà vu. Displacement. Sometimes it’s subtle. Sometimes it’s not.”
Fabienne exhaled slowly. “I slept, but I didn’t rest.”
DocWolf finished his coffee. “Then we walk the perimeter. Let the terrain speak.”
She nodded. “Coffee first. Then coherence.”