Two pinball machines happen to illuminate the coffee shop's basement. Gods sake. This place often is so dark that I swear ghouls and beings creep in the corner, sometimes. Right there, fella, a bogeyman crawling in the ceiling, two, three, four more I spotted last night! Not today. Spaceships, pyramids, and old-themed Hollywood movies are enlightening us. The light is coming from the machine. We found shelter from the darkness, the void. Here and there, numbers flashing with bright colors: Credit zero, game over. It's a mockery, isn't it?
An old tune fills the empty space. Is this coming from the pinball machines? As much as I, Matthew may feel relief. Quite frankly, the noiselessness has been making a toll on us. The cold numbs the night with dead air. But we follow the noise. Intrigued to find a loose door and the multicolor storm from the basement, we moved forward. The first machine portrays this blond woman laying over a tiger with a creepy gentleman in a tuxedo staring at her. La femme fatale? I got closer. Two words shine in golden letters: Mata Hari. The second machine showed some white explorers adventuring down the river.
- Who do you think killed the tiger? Matt asked.
- Who, tiger? You mean the animal.
Matt went over the machine. I stared at him from my seat, a cold cup of coffee twisting in my fingers, kinda ignored. My coffee always gets cold before I can drink it. So, annoying. Then, he turned to me with a smile.
- The dead tiger, the cartoon on the pinball machine. The game has to be about that blond gal. She is lying over the tiger at the center of the screen. I could lay down over a dead tiger too, you know, but it only makes me badass if I actually killed the tiger, preferably naked-handed. I guess you can count a knife.
- I doubt it would be fair to attack a tiger with a blade. If you fight me with a knife, that would not be a fair fight. Blood freaks me out. Not a fair business.
Matt didn't put too much attention to my reply. Well, I'm not a tiger. Perhaps it would be fair to fight one with a blade. A machete? Those animals are supposed to be as huge as a lion. How tall is a lion?
- Mata Hari. She is this female spy that switched sizes as many times as a burned pancake, he said, O damn the machine is broken. I may have broken it. He nodded to himself.
I stood up to get something from the barista. A few minutes to spare. He was a senior college student making some late shifts to cover part of his tuition.
He turned away.
The light is following me. As I descended to meet Matt again, I observed how the colors and lights on the streets were turning down. When the shadows finally caught us in this dead cold air night? Will I run or let it be? Can't see. Who's behind me but this empty room? I have my coffee. Matt waves at me.
