Transition and Restart, book three: Wingman Blues

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Midsummer's day, 2040, dawn

James woke from the morning chill. During what passed for night here someone had draped him in a blanket, and he passed a thankful thought to whoever that was.

An endless dawn broke over the island, but the growing daylight brought little warmth with it.

James shuddered and drew the blanket tighter around himself. Even though his bladder told him he needed to get up and find a toilet the rest of his freezing body ordered him to stay put for a little bit longer. In the end his bladder won that contest, and shivering from cold he rose and shuffled indoors.

Maybe some coffee later to warm me up, he thought after obeying his bladder. He’d make it the weak Swedish style, because hot water was more important than proper coffee right now.

Besides, it’s always good to have some prepared for when the next person wakes. That thought took him back to the year he got to know his hosts. You came over almost every evening that autumn. Or had it really been the entire autumn?

James shook his head in confusion. Well, it mattered little. During that autumn his Haven café became a second home for more than a few of those kids. But one of you was absent for some time. Funny that, I forgot what happened.

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