Bonne nuit.
"Do nothing, Alex Thorley. Do not exist."
The one on the opposite gestures for silence, signaling Alex Thorley to hold their tongue. They quickly realize the gesture is unnecessary: their mouth no longer exists.
They cast a disappointed glance at Nobody, sitting across with a hat brim pulled low, spreading honey over pancakes. Their nonexistent hand brushes against the cooling ceramic cup, soon the sensation of warmth vanishes along with their skin.
Nobody watches Alex Thorley cease to exist in silence, lighting a cigarette. The smoke fills the space between Nobody and the recently disintegrated Alex Thorley, lit faintly by the sporadic lights above, like a tiny nebula.
The honey, warm and sticky, streaks across the crust, leaving a cloyingly sweet trail, touches the side of Nobody's finger, lingers for a moment, as if reluctant to part. Just for a moment.
Not until the smoke disperses does Nobody take in a first chilly breath. On the table lies a clean plate, with a bland white bagel resting flawlessly at its center.
Nobody opens wide, watching the starlight above fading out one by one.
"Good night, Alex Thorley."