Tea Party at the End of the World

I've never been good with descriptions.

As well all know, unless an item or a place has some significant purpose to my life and story, I tend to gloss over the details. It saves me a lot of effort and the both of us a lot of time.

I know you don't care about the exact placement of the chairs and tables in a tavern, and the number and composition of the crowd contained in its four walls. I know you don't care about the precise shade of purple the flower's petals are as they sit in a vase off in the corner of a room I am only in long enough to turn around and leave.

Frankly, it's pointless, and nobody really cares. I trust your imagination is in enough working condition to picture a café when I tell you I'm at a café, or in a laboratory when I'm in a laboratory.

Now, that being said; hang with me here for a minute.

I found myself at some sort of eating establishment. Counter, tables, chairs, patrons, the whole nine. Except there are no walls, floors, or ceiling--rather than the comforting normality of known architecture methods, this place was floating in the empty vastness of space. Everywhere I looked, I could see pinpricks of light spread out through the infinite blackness. I could make out the colorful spirals of distant galaxies, the dusty turquoise and orange cloud of the Haarkan Nebula to my right, and the vague shapes of constellations to my left.

This is why I trust your imagination to do all the work for me. I told you I am not good at descriptions.

Just know I'm surrounded by stars and shit.

I have no recollection how I arrived at this place, my robed ass firmly planted in a cushioned chair at a perfectly clean table in this restaurant floating through the universe or whatever. One gnarled hand was firmly wrapped around a cup of serviceable tea. Don't ask me what kind; I couldn't tell you. Don't ask me what it tasted like, because I'd only tell you "like fucking tea, dumbass."

I took another cautious sip of the aromatic drink, careful not to spill any on the polished mahogany of the table. Whoever kept this place clean must get quite the paycheck. An impeccably dressed figure appeared at my side, and gave me a quick tap on the shoulder.

"Ma'am, the rest of your party has arrived."

"Party?" I asked, no small amount of confusion in my voice. "What are you talking about?"

The waiter set two menus on the table without a word. I lightly touched his wrist. "Hey, I asked you a question--"

"Hello, Madison," called a soft, familiar voice. A chill immediately ripped down my spine.