Dimus clicked on the mouse, scrolled and rolled it around in the tiny spot he had left, after heaps of papers occupying his desk. Long back, he had started designing on the computer. But apparently, the messy paper drafts were a must. Like a good omen to his college projects.

  He looked at the design, hovering it around in every direction. He forgot to blink for a minute. But like an in-built alarm - as if his clock hit. He mechanically snapped back to the chair, and his long hair fell all over his face mask.

  He slowly pulled all the hair back, and just stared at the wall for a moment.

  His investment on beauty products had paid him well. He was handsome, and with a couple ear piercings, long hair, and a cheerful smile. His tips were steadily in the five hundred to eight hundred dollars range. The best he hit was a thousand and two hundred. Being handsome, literally, let him eat.

  This night was just another sleepless night for Dimus. When his eyes were dropping down like anything, he decided to take a nap. But he woke up in fifteen minutes. The ghostly lores he was studying for his design. He was seeing ghosts dance around his corpse, in the dream.

  Soon Dimus gave up, and was sniffing at the fresh aroma of the instant coffee. It was nothing special, but addiction makes anything work. The alcohol that once burns, starts to taste like sweets. Coffee still had some natural sweetness to it.

  Dimus plopped back on the chair, and switched to the pdf of: Demons and designs. Honestly, he’d be afraid if he believed in ghosts. This book exposed lores which almost made him forget that he didn’t believe in ghosts. But to pull off another unique and genius project, he had to do just as much work.

  He scrolled to the page he was on. It was talking something about the lores of mystical nooses, that bound even the inhuman forms in existence.

  Just reading a line, Dimus’ face scrunched up. He looked at the clock, and it was three thirteen.

  He still had a month till the project submission, so he could go to sleep. And honestly, he should go to sleep. The customers, especially females, might like more of his pale, vampirely look. But he was afraid that he was anemic.

  He spent another fifteen minutes online, searching if he was anemic. And yeah, he came to a conclusion. He didn’t know how but he might just die tomorrow. So he just decided to sleep for the night.

  *************************

  The pesky beeps from his phone just didn’t stop. And Dimus had a habit of keeping it at the table, far off from the bed. He woke up in a robotically groggy way. He always woke up at five in the morning, without fail. The alarm was like a backup plan.

  He turned the alarm off, and freshened himself up. Obviously, he then had a cup of instant coffee. Then he strapped the phone to his arm. And put his running shoes on, which he barely scraped out of his savings.

  The day went in his usual structure. A six mile run, and some calisthenics in the park.

  When his parents were alive, he used to run miles and miles in the fields. Though, that was long back, and he didn’t remember much now.

  Luckily the college was off today, but yeah, the part-time wasn’t.

  Another couple of hours, he gave the nonsensically eerie Demons and Designs a read, and scribbled out a few drafts for his design. He was barely feeling that something was building up. The feeling he always had before some crazy idea, but his alarm rang up, and it was now eleven-thirty.

  He hurriedly donned his uniform, and dashed out. His hand effortlessly making a ponytail out of his hair. And soon, he was biking to Night’s day coffee shop.

  Cycling his way through the extensive and exclusive holiday-traffic of the weekend, Dimus made his way to the cafe. He entered through the backdoor for the workers, and definitely made sure to say a cheerful “hi” to the manager. From years of work experience, it’s always good to show the manager how punctual you are.

  Miss Sherry Clinton – the manager – acknowledged Dimus with a nod, looking down at her personal, pocket diary. The attendance was digital work, but Sherry often penned down remarks on workers in her diary.

  She casually looked up at Dimus, but she almost paused there, looking a bit longer than she wanted to.

  “What do you do, Dimus?” She let out a strangled chuckle, turning to adjust the glass on the counter. Probably in the side of her eye, she caught the sight of a slightly out-of-queue glass.

  “Why are you glowing more and more day by day?” She said, looking at him again.

  Dimus’ eyebrows went up the furthest they could. He didn’t even need to spell out “Am I?”. His face did it all. Yeah, he got compliments. But Sherry did not, just did not compliment any workers.

  “It’s all just with a healthy sleep cycle. Sleeping less than two hours a day.”

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  Sherry broke into a chuckle, and just casually, defeatedly shook her head.

  “I get why you loot so many tips.”

  She pulled out her dairy again, holding out before her like a sacred book of rules. In his first month of work, he had snuck a look into it. It literally had the whole days planned, and work shifts with personal critiques. But it was probably her meticulous habits that had built the reputation of this cafe as it is now. And Dimus had worked with her since the first batch, so he knew how far they had come.

  “Why are you standing here?” She startled him out of his thoughts.

  “Huh? I thought you were gonna give me some task or sth?” He pointed at the dairy.

  It was always a pattern that she was brewing something important when she looked at the diary.

  “No. Are you an idiot? With your looks you will only be working as the waiter. Go now.”

  He casually sighed at her offhand remarks, which he had just gotten used to. He quietly left to start his shift.

  From twelve to one, and then two, the time passed quickly. It was a hectic day, especially the day when there were a lot of couples out on dates. Holidays just always doubled the work. But they also doubled the tips so Dimus didn’t mind.

  Like the old-style cafes, a bell chimed when the door was opened. Dimus looked up, and a girl group had entered the cafe. They seemed too happy, so Dimus guessed they were in late highschool or early college.

  His body really wanted a break. Especially a sleep, under the quiet scent of hot coffee – like a hum in the background. But he needed money more. Art schools weren’t easy to get by even with scholarships.

  Dimus switched on his social mode, and somehow went through it all. The girls had a party, and obviously some social media tantrums. Somehow, that got on the nerves of the couple besides them, and Dimus really had to deal with all that shit.

  Everybody backed off to take responsibility when Dimus was around. He had been working in the cafe for roughly three and a half years now, and Sherry trusted him a lot. Of course, the trust and power meant that he had to deal with his problems, and the problems others caused.

  Apparently, for Dimus, the girls weren’t in the wrong here, so he passively stood up for them. The couple retorted back like idiots. No idea why they were so aggressive. Perhaps their relationship was wobbling towards the end, and this was just an outlet for that.

  Soon, the couple left after an argument, and nobody stopped them. The staff and the customers all just understandingly, shifted back to their own work in a minute.

  After three hours of tedious work, Dimus got a break. His body was ready for a breakdown, but the white smoke from the coffee kept him up.

  He set a fifteen minute timer on his phone and slept, but apparently the alarm just kept on buzzing and he slept for an hour.

  Sherry had let him sleep too, as nobody disturbed him in the backroom where staff often passed by.

  “Are you gonna cut my salary?” Dimus said.

  His hand was just periodically rubbing his nape, but his scrunched face put on an exhibition of his regret.

  “If you make this a habit.” Sherry replied, just calmly baking the muffins. She often baked muffins, and they tasted awesome.

  On the other hand, Dimus’ face relieved itself of all the tension. It looked like he gained a couple extra years to his life now.

  “Oh thank you so much, Sherry.”

  Dimus bent down and hugged her, but it turned much awkward that he thought. Sherry didn’t even turn towards him, and just kept her poker face – unfazed. As a plus, she was much shorter than him, so it almost looked like Dimus fell over her, and somehow stuck himself there.

  He went through several stages of emotions - internally. Then, he just sighed, thanking that she didn’t punch him for hugging her. Discussing a bit about work, he joined for another shift.

  Work, a bit of break, and then work. Time passed.

  From twelve in the noon, to ten at night, Dimus completed his ten-hour, weekend shift. He had to do this, as he recently took a huge chunk out of his savings for his budget. The budget for his animation video plan.

  From seven, Dimus was much into drawing the fields around his country side. After his parent’s death, he stopped. But he later picked it up in his teens. The time when he moved to San Jose, with this uncle.

  His uncle, Gregory, was a hobbyist musician. Though he often was busy with his job, he still used to play for him, and taught him guitar.

  Dimus didn’t have enough time, or money to start a series, and start animating episodes himself. But the idea had a weirdly potent, inner push. As if he was finding solace for the grief of his parent’s and uncle’s death, in the project.

  He checked out of the cafe, and biked back to his apartment. The streets were lit, but they all seemed empty to him. As if his memory had just quietly altered it, because he wasn’t in the mood for the noise.

  His mind was blank. He didn’t know if this was a weird way for his sorrow to well-up inside. But his hands just mechanically continued the work.

  He dressed in something casual, and lay over his chair. He scrolled through the pdf, or tried to draw. Like the five minute rule he always used. Just do the thing for five minutes, and you will start getting engaged. But probably from overexhaustion, he just wasn’t having the mind for it.

  He swivelled around his chair, blankly looking at the room as if it was something he was seeing for the first time. But suddenly with a bloop, he got a message on Viscord.

  Like the notification sound pervaded life back into his body, he stopped his chair and looked at the computer. Must be someone asking for help, he thought, and rowed his chair with his legs, closer to the computer.

  On the left tab, he clicked, and it was someone new who had messaged him. His college peers often contacted him, and there were always new people to know. He had lots of people in his contact, but somehow there was always someone new to know. He was “the guy” of the college, after all.

  “Hey, gentleman. I was wondering if you’d be interested in this pdf. The actual and real version of Demons and Designs, before it was banned.”

  Along with that, there was obviously a pdf named Demons and designs.

  Honestly, reading the message, Dimus did not know what to do with it. He just normally twisted his lips, disgusted. Disgusted by the utterly poor attempt by the hacker to make him download something weird.