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Even though autumn has already begun, it is as if summer had not been informed. The air was stuffy, it wasn’t moving one bit, over thirty degrees outside under the scorching sun. Even the slow-moving vehicles of the early afternoon rush hour were pouring out the heat, which the inky asphalt absorbed and gave back many times over.

In the classroom it seemed even more unbearable, especially on Friday, during the last class. Kieran yawned big and wide, and wished he could forward time to get out of there sooner.

“Mr Somerset! Am I boring you? Is Descartes boring you?” Ms Lee, the introduction to modern philosophy teacher, gave Kieran a dark look from behind her extra thin glasses before turning back to the thick and boring book she held, full of dates and places to learn.

‘Bloody evolution!’ muttered Kieran to himself, then turned back to the window to his left, through which he could observe the busy street four floors below.

He’d always found it counterintuitive that evolution had given humans this ability, called intuition, to sense mood swings, strong emotions, when someone was up to no good or trouble was coming. Like an overdeveloped sixth sense. In some ways it can be really useful, but sometimes it can be really annoying. For example, when class is boring.

As the clock hit two, Kieran was the first to run out of the school building. He had to hurry to get to his workplace, Razin Bookshop and Antiquities. Luckily, his boss, Mr Razin, was flexible with his schedule and took into account that Kieran was still a university student in his final year of studying philosophy. Jürgen – as the boss allowed Kieran to call him – was a larger man with dark skin and greying short hair, who always wore old shirts and jackets that had fallen out of fashion some time ago. But the boss was always nice to him, and Kieran was quite fond of the old man.

When he walked through the door at the bookshop, he found no one behind the small wooden desk to the left of the entrance. A corridor led from the door to rows of bookshelves, and along the walls were more shelves stacked to the ceiling with more books and antique knick-knacks. Two shoppers browsed in the front, one looking at the fiction shelves, the other pacing the aisles as if he didn’t know what he was looking for. Kieran went over to the latter.

The customer looked at Kieran in surprise, probably thinking that he was a customer in the shop as well.

“Good afternoon! I’m Kieran, if I can help you with anything, please let me know.” He said after a pause, and then went behind the counter, dropping his bag and cardigan.

He put his name tag on his shirt, which read:

Kieran Somerset

sales assistant

student

This seems to have had the desirable effect, as the customer has become more friendly with him.

“Actually, I’m looking for a novel for my daughter, she loves to read. She is only twelve and I have no idea what is suitable and interesting for her. She no longer reads children’s stories and is too young for serious works.”

“Are you perhaps thinking of a teen or young adult novel?” Kieran tried to help. He could tell the man didn’t go to bookshops often, but at least he cared about his daughter’s needs.

“Yes, something like that...” The customer nodded, as if he understood what he was talking about.

“Then this way, please!”

Kieran led the customer to the appropriate shelves, picked out a few books he thought were suitable, and left the final decision to the dad, who was in a hurry. He took Celia Reese’s The Wish House, one of Kieran’s personal favourites.

By the time he’d made the purchase, Mr Razin was still nowhere to be seen, so Kieran went back to see if he was in his office. A short corridor led to a dark room that resembled a hoarder’s place, that was the boss’ office. But he wasn’t there. Jürgen was out of the shop a lot, chasing rare antiquities and such, but it wasn’t like him to leave it unattended. Anyway, Kieran walked back to the front, took his place behind the counter and waited. Almost half his shift was over before Mr Razin returned.

“Kieran, you’re here! I had to run out and I thought if I left the shop alone for a few minutes, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Yes, I got here, no problem.” The boy smiled.

“Thank goodness! Wow, you got a new colour? It goes well with your eyes.” Mr Razin pointed to his hair.

“Thank you!”

Kieran’s short black hair had two coloured stripes on the left side, which he always dyed a different colour. Now it was green, just like his eyes.

Little things like this were what he liked about Jürgen; not only he didn’t judge his slightly more extreme appearance, but he seemed to like it. He always noticed the changes – the hair colour, the different piercings – and often complimented them.

The rest of the day was quite relaxed. Many people came to buy textbooks, as the new school year had just started, and there were also some orders for some older, rarer books for the antiquarian business.

The shop closed at seven o’clock in the evening, Kieran said goodbye to his boss and then headed to his favourite hangout for a drink.

There was a place near the city centre called Dire Diablo, where Kieran often went for a drink, either on his own or with friends and acquaintances. The Dire Diablo was a tidy little pub, frequented mainly by the younger generations. Sometimes, when there were concerts or karaoke nights, it was a bit more crowded, but otherwise it was fairly quiet.

He could see from a distance where the entrance was, because smokers were lined up against the wall on either side, harming themselves and their surroundings. At the entrance to the pub, two drunk men were arguing about something Kieran didn’t understand, but neither did the drunks themselves. After avoiding them, Kieran walked down the few steps and turned right and walked straight to the bar. If he’d gone left, there would have been booths to either side of the wall; and a corridor straight from the entrance to the dance floor, with a small stage after that. It seemed the twins were on shift at the same time tonight. One of them, Page, went up to Kieran.

“Hello, weary wanderer, long time no see!” She laughed and twirled her long, dark-blonde locks. Her friendly gaze surveyed Kieran, as if trying to see inside his head.

“Try something new on me.” Said Kieran thoughtfully. “Like a colourful cocktail or something.”

“Wow, did I happen to find you in a good mood? Or do you want something?” Page’s light blue eyes twinkled mischievously, then she nodded and glided over to the drinks counter behind her.

As a regular at Dire Diablo, Kieran had become quite friendly with the staff, including the twin bartenders, Page and Cameron McMahon. To say they are friends would be an understatement. In fact, they both flirted with him all the time, and on a couple of occasions Kieran slept with Cameron.

Page and Cameron were identical twins, but they didn’t look that much alike, they could have been just siblings. They both had long dark blond hair and light blue eyes, beige complexion and some freckles, but Page shaved the right side of her head and Cameron always wore his hear in dreadlocks. Page also had a piercing in her right eyebrow while Cameron had many tattoos.

Their personalities also differed quite a lot: Page was more head on and temperamental, while Cameron was more emotional but closed up.

Page turned back to Kieran, who was lost in thought.

“Did you have a busy day?”

“You could say that.”

“Did Jürgen work you to death?” Page had visited Kieran a few times at the bookshop and had become such good friends with his boss that they called each other by their first names.

“Not really, although at the start of my shift he threw me in the deep end, left the shop before I got there and didn’t even close. He didn’t even put up the ‘I’ll be right back!’ sign!”

She nodded in understanding, then turned back, stopped the machine, poured the contents into a glass, poured a few more things over it and put the result in front of Kieran.

“What’s this now?”

“Taste it first!” Urged Page.

“Hm, not bad...”

“Forest-fruity vodka stuff!” Page exclaimed proudly.

“Is that the official name?” Teased Kieran, before Page poked him in the shoulder and ordered him to stop talking and drink.

Page loved experimenting with cocktails and inventing new ones, but not many people took on the role of the lab animal. Kieran, however, sometimes gave in, and so far, it hasn’t killed him.

After a few minutes, Cameron joined them.

“Hello, Kieran, sorry, but she’s driving me nuts!” He pointed at a girl at a table. “She kept trying to seduce me all night, kept trying to buy me drinks, even though I told her I couldn’t drink on the job, and then when she got drunk enough, she started complaining about how her girlfriend had just dumped her and how life was so awful and cruel. Now she’s fallen asleep. I hate customers like that!”

“Poor thing. I thought bartenders were like therapists though?” Kieran joined in the conversation with little interest.

“Just because I serve someone doesn’t mean I want to hear their whole life story! I hate this job!”

“So, it’s the other way round for you? The bartender uses the customer as a therapist?” Kieran laughed.

“You’re such a bastard!” Cameron was offended, shook his head and moved to serve someone.

“Is he moody today?” Kieran looked at Page.

“A little. I think he’s frustrated.” Shrugged Page.

For the rest of the evening, Cameron didn’t go up to Kieran again, who mostly talked to Simon, the DJ, who was a good mate of his. He had known Simon from high school, although Kieran was a year ahead of him.

The DJ’s phone battery was dead and he didn’t have a charger, so he asked Kieran to charge it.

“I don’t want word to get out about what I’m doing.” Kieran whispered with the phone in his hand, then concentrated and the phone came back to life.

“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed!” Simon laughed and patted Kieran on the back, who was pulling his lips.

Only a few of Kieran’s friends knew that he had another gift in addition to intuition. He could fill things. More precisely, charge, load, spend, fill, and so on. Whether it was an empty glass, an empty toothpaste tube, a depleted electronic device, anything.

He found this out when he was a little boy, playing in the playground with the other kids one summer and his water pistol ran out. Just when he thought he wished he didn’t have to walk back to the pool to refill it, the gun suddenly filled with water. Kieran was scared at first, so he didn’t tell anyone. When he was left alone, he began experimenting with his ability to fill his salt container, his cat’s water bowl, and fill in the blanks in his homework. Then, when he got older, he used his ability for other things: filling up the drinks machine in his home, his empty paint tubes, and saved himself quite a bit of money over the years.

Sometimes, as well as making a profit, he also used his ability for pranks, for example, if he saw a drunk in a bar pestering someone in a rude way, he would overfill the beer can in his hand, so it would spill all over the bully. All in all, he tried to use his power mostly for good. Then again, he didn’t really dare resort to his it too often, because he didn’t know of anyone else who had the same ability, and he knew of movies where they experimented on strange people.

Around three in the morning, Kieran was headed home. There were only two customers left, the girl who had fallen asleep while complaining and a drunk man. When Kieran stepped out the front door, he found Cameron smoking. When the blond spotted him, he quickly turned his head the other way. Kieran hesitantly paused, then finally stepped towards him.

“You haven’t gone home yet?” He asked him.

“No, I’m waiting for Page to leave.” Cameron replied, looking across the street.

“Are you still angry? I was just kidding, okay?” Cameron then turned his head to look at Kieran. Finally, he decided to calm down and believe him.

“I know a lot of people think we’re just spiritual drink vending machines, but I personally don’t care about the problems of strangers.” Cameron dropped the end of his cigarette and stubbed it out, then continued to kick the now extinguished butt.

“Hey, when people drown their sorrows and joys in drink, they unwittingly start talking to the one who’s there: you. Instead, take it as a vote of confidence that they’re sharing their private business with you. And if you still don’t want to listen, pretend you’re busy. Rearrange the drinks counter or whatever.”

Cameron nodded, but he was still hanging his nose.

“Tired?” Nodding. “Missing me?” Nodding.

Kieran stepped closer to Cameron, cupped his face in both palms and kissed him. When he let go, Cameron was smiling.

“Better now?” Nodding.

“I’ve had to come in all week, I’m a bit tired I guess.”

“Then go home and get some sleep. I’m going too, I’ll talk to you later.” With that, Kieran turned his back and walked away waving.

It was dawn when he got home. He lived with his family in the suburbs, in a two-storey house with a big garden that no one really tended, no flowers, just a few trees and grass. He had the entire top floor to himself, and was lucky that there was an outside staircase leading up to his own floor, since he came home at night quite often and this way, he didn’t have to wake his parents and sister.

Then, in his room, he was greeted by Straips, the huge brown and black cat, purring and rubbing to his legs.

“Shit, don’t come any closer!” Kieran snapped with his hands outstretched, but of course the cat didn’t understand.

As he rummaged in his bag, he cursed and tried to nudge Straips away with his foot.

Kieran was allergic to pet hair, so he had to take medication to keep a cat. When the doctor told him this as a child, he had to choose between getting rid of his newly acquired Straips or taking medication for the rest of his life. It wasn’t a difficult decision, Kieran loves cats, he’s crazy about them. So Straips stayed, and with him came the constant medication.

After brushing his teeth and changing to a t-shirt, he went to sleep at dawn. He had a bittersweet dream, about the first few days he and Cameron got together.