I wrote this as a contest entry on a writing site I belong to. I don’t remember the prompt, but the idea of a “hub of the multiverse” for some of my stories intrigued me, so I ran with it. Here is my hub, The Jaunty Mug. I hope you like it.

When customers enter, they believe I am a normal coffee shop. What they don’t realize is that I am a hub of the multiverse. The atmosphere changes, depending on the clientele. Thursday nights are my favorite. That’s the night my favorite role-play gaming group takes over the establishment to lose themselves in their world at the far side of my portal.

My avatar, Stevie, stands behind the bar, taking orders from the youngsters here to escape their mundane lives. They know they have privacy once they push the tables together. I will make sure of it. Through the glass panes, the rest of the world sees a group of friends immersed in playing a game. Inside is a whole other universe where these patrons live a fantasy life.

Tonight, though, I notice Aislynn is missing. She’s the group’s healer and has saved their skins more than once while adventuring on the other side. I think nothing of it as Chuck orders a decaf latte with a hint of chocolate. Bert orders his usual double macchiato, and Stevie fills the varied orders for the others.

“So, what do you think happened to Aislynn?” asks Yvonne when she sits in her usual seat.

“I heard she was hit by a car on her way to class,” replies Chuck, sliding into his chair. “Cops said it was a hit-and-run. They’re looking for clues.”

“Oh, crap,” says Mac, joining the rest of his companions, a cup of Earl Grey tea and a packet of honey in hand. “How are we gonna survive without our healer?”

“What is wrong with you?” Sandra says as she punches him in the shoulder.

“Ow,” he rubs his arm where her fist connects. “That hurt.”

“It was supposed to,” she says. “Our friend is in the hospital and you’re worried about a game? Will you pu-leeze grow up a little?” Sandra turns back to Chuck. “Where did you hear that?”

“My brother Dave told me. He works for the newspaper and they sent him to cover the story.”

“Has anyone visited her yet?” asks Yvonne.

“No,” says Bert, arriving with his drink. “I tried earlier, but they wouldn’t let me in.” He sits at the head of the table and sets up his game-master screen. “I’m gonna try again tomorrow. I’ll keep trying until they let me see her.” He looks around the table. “Is anyone interested in playing tonight? I could go either way, but could really use the distraction.”

“Honestly, so could I,” replies Chuck. “It’s been a tough day, and I could use a good fight,” he flexes like his half-orc barbarian, Grok. The rest of the table laughs. Even Stevie chuckles. Chuck is the smallest person in the room, a bean-pole of a young man, standing all of five feet tall.

“Last week,” Bert begins as the taste of coffee morphs into something more potent. “We left our intrepid adventurers sitting in The Jaunty Mug, raising a toast to their success against the swamp witch. Exhausted after fighting the Shambling Mound….”

The table disappears around them as the scene in their minds morphs to a crowded room in a seedy tavern.