The Coffee Shop (Wellenore)

five

"Lenore," Edgar said as he walked into the living room of the apartment where Lenore had just floated through the wall of.

"Edgar it's the middle of the night," Lenore pointed out, even though she wasn't very surprised to see him awake. If it wasn't for the fact that she had entered his study many times to find him asleep at his desk she would have been certain that he never spelt.

"Yes well you're awake," Edgar tried to counter as a hand scratched his head.

"Because I'm dead," Lenore stated in response, sliding her hand threw her neck for effect, "I don't need to sleep. And you took the second bedroom so I wouldn't even have anywhere to sleep."

"Like you said you don't need to sleep and therefore don't need the bedroom. I slept earlier."

"I know," Lenore told him as she pursed her lips, "I went to talk with you and instead had to leave a pile of sand on your head."

"Is that what's all in my hair- where did you even get sand?" Edgars thick brows furrowed as his hand ran across his hair.

Lenore just shrugged. "What do you need?" she asked.

"I was working on this poem and I-"

Lenore cut Edgar off with a long groan. "I don't want to hear about you being in love with Anna banana."

"It's not about Annabel. Why do you assume everything I write is about her?" Edgar asked.

"Because everything you write is about her," Lenore stated. "Like seriously, I was looking at one of the boxes which you still haven't removed from my attic and I think I found one that wasn't about Annabel and that one was about me which was totes weird and also very mean. You need to stop acting like I'm destroying your life when I am clearly the only thing making it good."

"I've been busy," Edgar explained, "and you are over exaggerating."

"No I am not. Would you like to come look at it for yourself and remove the box while you are at it?" Lenore asked, already beginning to move in the direction of the hallway where the access to the attic was.

"No, that's fine," Edgar said. "Can you just listen to this poem, something about it is not working and I can't figure out what."

"Fine," Lenore gave in, "I mean I have nothing else to do, I already scared away those thirteen year old boys who keep trying to climb onto the roof."

"They were back?" Edgar asked with a blink before he began to unfold a piece of paper in his hand. "Anyways-"

"What has my afterlife become," Lenore sighed before Edgar began to read the poem.

"So what do you think? Was the last line good enough? I don't think the third one really matches the rest of the poem but also I really like that one? Should i restart and focus around the third line instead?" Edgar rambled once he had finished reading the poem which in Lenore's opinion was far too long.

"Shorten it," Lenore stated, "I don't have my entire afterlife to listen to you talk on and on about- ravens?"

"Yes," Edgar nodded in confirmation to Lenore's hesitancy in saying what the poem was about.

"Okay your obsession with ravens is a bit weird and also you need to get yourself from writer friends who might actually be willing to sit down and read your gloomy poems," Lenore told him, "and yes that would involve leaving your little dark apartment."

"Perhaps I could ask Annabel," Edgar said thoughtfully, "she knows many people."

"Why would Anna banana know any writers?" Lenore asked with a quirked brow. "It only seems like she knows a totes huge number of people because you don't know anyone."