“I'd like a Grande Caramel Macchiato with skim milk and extra whip cream please!” A perky blonde chirped.

“Yes ma’am coming right up,” a flat bored voice responded.

“You know Wolfgang, I thought that all baristas were supposed to be peppy,” the blond smirked as her drink was being made.

“Sorry Cindy, that's just not me,” Wolfgang rolled his eyes as he placed the sugary concoction on the counter. “One Grande Caramel Macchiato, skim, extra whip.”

“Thanks Wolfie,” she winked and then swayed her hips on the way out the door.

“Bitch,” Wolfgang snarled under his breath. Back in high school, before Wolfram realized he preferred men, he dated Cindy DeWinter. In fact, she was the first and last woman he ever slept with.

“Venti Chai latte please! Is your name really Wolfgang?” The teenage customer chuckled.

. . .

“Gramps, I'm home” Wolfgang announced as he closed the door.

“Wolfgang! Is this what it looks like?!!” His grandfather shouted, brandishing a book in his hand.

Wolfgang grimaced as ‘The Sailor and His Slippery Fish,’ was waived through the air a few feet away from him. Rather than asking why his eighth year old grandfather was holding his trashy gay romance novel, Wolfgang decided to hedge his bets. “That depends, what do you think it looks like?” He laughed nervously while rubbing the back of his head.

“It looks like some modern garbage,” his grandfather spat. “How many times must I tell you to respect the classics?” He threw the paperback book down while shaking his head. "Don't you know why I gave you boys your names?" He fixed his old watery eyes on his grandson.

Wolfgang crossed his arms and huffed out a long suffering groan. "Because you are obsessed with classical composers gramps. That's why you named my old man Johann Sebastian, my poor uncle, Ludwig, and me, Wolfgang Amadeus," he rolled his eyes.

"No!" His grandfather snapped and hobbled with his cane closer. "I gave you boys those strong names so that you could all accomplish great things in life!" He poked his grandson in the stomach with the end on his cane.

Wolfgang snorted diversely at that. "Well my old man bit it in a shady drug deal before I was born, uncle Lud is in prison for armed robbery, and I was abandoned on your doorstep by that woman my old man knocked up right after I was born. All and all gramps, it's not going well for us," he laughed humorously.

"You are my last hope Wolfgang Amadeus Smith," the old man smiled widely, exposing his dentures.

"Gramps, don't pin all your hopes and dreams on me ok?" Wolfgang scoffed and backed away. He leaned over, picked up his trashy romance novel, and stomped out of the room.

The old man sighed and shuffled over to his piano. He took a seat on the well worn leather bench and cracked his arthritic knuckles. Before long Requiem in D minor, K.626, filled the living room and traveled up the stairs.

Wolfgang slammed his door shut as the melody reached his ears and flopped down dramatically on his bed. He rolled over, turned on his bedside lamp, and flipped through his book, trying to find his place. In truth, Wolfgang adored his grandfather, the man raised him after all. He never knew his father or mother, only his grandfather. But Wolfgang didn't know what he wanted to do with his life.

Wolfgang had dropped out of college after the first year. His grandfather had had a heart attack and had to be bed ridden for several months. Wolfgang had to find a job to support them both, so he became a barista. He doesn't even like coffee. Wolfgang turned out to be an excellent barista though. In school he had always been good in Science and chemistry, making a complicated coffee order was sorta like mixing solutions in chem lab. The only real problem was interacting with people. Wolfgang had never been a people person.

With the piano playing in the background, Wolfgang propped himself up on his pillows and began to read his book. The 'swash-butt-tackling' tale was sure to brighten his dreary disposition. Books were his only escape. Thankfully his grandfather hadn't taken a very close look at the subject matter of this 'modern garbage,' or they would have had a very different conversation indeed. After an hour, Wolfgang had fallen soundly asleep.

. . .

Wolfgang was awoken by the shrill sound of the stupid rooster next door. As he got up to shut the window, he mentally vowed to one day rid this world of that damn bird's presence one of these mornings. After a much needed shower, Wolfgang slumped down the stairs. Unsurprisingly, he found his grandfather asleep in the La-Z-Boy with a half completed sheet music perched on his rotund stomach.

"Oh gramps," Wolfgang smirked fondly and grabbed a nearby blanket, draping it over the old man.

Wolfgang picked up his backpack, threw on his usual black hoodie along with his white Detroit Tigers hat, and softly closed the front door behind him. He had a few hours before his shift started, so he headed to his favorite place in the whole world, a crumby old second hand bookstore.

. . .

"Morning Amadeus Amadeus!" A middle aged woman behind the counter greeted warmly. Her name was Cheryl, a short, bushy hair brunette with warm chocolate eyes. After a failed marriage to an accountant, she decided to open a book store. It was one of the only places in their small town that Wolfgang felt at peace. The small store was stacked to the ceiling with books.

"Mornin' Cheryl," Wolfgang waived.

"Finish that 'swash-butt-tackling' tale already?" She smirked knowingly. Cheryl was the first person that Wolfgang came out to, she was his best friend. She allowed Wolfgang to use her store more like a library. He adored her.

"Yeah," he blushed and rubbed the back of his head. Truthfully he had enjoyed the book so much he had read it through twice. "Anything new come in?" Wolfgang asked as he sheepishly handed over the book.

"As a matter of fact," Cheryl disappeared from sight as she nimbly swooped down behind her counter. "This was brought in yesterday, the man seemed almost reluctant to sell it to me, but I knew how much you'd like it . . . where the hell did I put the darn thing?" Her voice came out muffled as she rummaged through boxes of books under the counter. "Ah ha!" She chimed triumphantly and shot back to her feet.

Wolfgang chuckled at how adorable she was. He thought of her as a mother figure and she treated him like the sweet gay son she never had. It was a wonderful friendship. "Thanks for going to bat for me," Wolfgang smiled. He hardly ever smiled, but he couldn't help it around Cheryl.

"Anytime kiddo," she grinned and punched him lightly in the arm across the counter. "Here ya go!" Cheryl beamed and tossed the book on the counter in front of Wolfgang. "I don’t have a bow, but Happy Birthday kid," she winked.

Wolfgang's eyes went wide in surprise, it was his birthday, he had forgot. "Thanks Cheryl," he blushed.

"No problem kiddo, sorry it's not something more exciting," she laughed as Wolfgang clutched the book lovingly in his arms. "I don't know many twenty two year olds that would be happy with some old book, but you're like me, we have a problem," Cheryl chuckled.

"It's not a problem, it's just a harmless little addiction," Wolfgang resorted. He was so touched that Cheryl remembered his birthday and gave him a present.

"Yeah," Cheryl raised both her arms to indicate her whole store, "harmless little addiction." She laughed so hard she had to wipe the tears away from under her glasses.

"Did you read it yet?" Wolfgang knew that Cheryl loved to read gay romance novels just as much as he did.

"Not this time," Cheryl shook her head. "The weird guy I bought it off of made me promise that only someone worthy should have this book. Someone who would be able to 'really get into it,' is what he said."

"What a weirdo," Wolfgang raised an eyebrow. He glanced down at his birthday present with an apprehensive look. It appeared to be an older book with slightly yellowed pages. The title was written across the cover in looping golden cursive; Out of Time. "Thank you Cheryl," he smiled broadly.

"You're welcome kiddo," she gave her trademark lopsided smile.

"I gotta get to work, but I'll try to stop by in a few days," Wolfgang grinned as he shoved the old book into his faded grey backpack.

"Sounds good, later," Cheryl waived as Wolfgang left the shop.    

. . .

Wolfgang ended up getting to work about twenty minutes before his shift, so he climbed onto a bag of coffee beans from Venezuela and pulled out his new book. He placed his headphones in his ears and selected one of his reading lists on his phone. Wolfgang opened the book to find only a small passage written on the first page:

Chapter 1

This book contains a tale that hasn't been written yet. To begin your adventure, turn the page. Proceed at your own risk!

Wolfgang snorted and turned the page .  . .