Expiration Dates

“You want your usual, Sam?”

Tracy spoke to the bundled-up figure who came into her coffee shop. The mass of outerwear nodded and headed to its regular seat, a table in the back corner which gave them a view of the front door. This spot also let people gaze out the large window and watch who was passing by, but the tinted window kept outsiders unaware they were being viewed.

For the last five years, Sam had come to the shop at the same time every morning, ordered the same thing, sat in the same place, and left at the same time. The routine never varied, no matter the weather.

At first, this bugged Tracy, later she learned to appreciate her regulars. Faithful customers kept the place in business. She fixed Sam’s coffee, black with a shot of vanilla and one ounce of half and half. Then she prepared a honey roll the way he requested the first time.

“Microwaved thirty seconds, no more, no less. Just enough to make it warm and oozy but not so hot it can’t be enjoyed when served.”

Tracy delivered the order to the now unbound guest who was holding before his face a black, soft leather-bound book which had no title on its cover.

“Whatcha reading?” Tracy said as she sat the cup of coffee and roll down on the table.

“Notes, recorded facts. Nothing that means anything to some people and everything to me.”

Sam laid down the book. Before he closed it, Tracy glimpsed briefly the page Sam had been studying. It was empty. No words, no writing, no scribbles. Only a blank sheet of paper in this bound book.

“Must be a good read. You seemed absorbed.” Tracy’s words stumbled over themselves.

“Did I? I suppose I do get caught up in what’s written.”

“Yes, good books can do that to us.”

Tracy’s response was an automatic reply. Her thoughts, however, were popping like corn kernels in hot oil. Is he crazy? Is he hallucinating? Have I been serving a mad man for five years and I didn’t realize it? Should I call the cops or the fire department? What do I do if he goes bonkers in here?

She somehow made her way back to the counter. Tracy spent the next hour or so fixing coffee drinks, filling orders, smiling at customers, and making small talk. She did it in a haze. Every so often she glanced at Sam.

Sam, who she once dubbed as a harmless oddball, she now suspected was a mentally unstable time bomb. Every so often she saw him make a note in his book or turn a page. She watched him look out the window, then pick up his pen and write. She thought hard. Wouldn’t he have done something by now if he was nuts? Perhaps I’m tired and my mind is playing tricks. If he is writing things down, then there must be words on the page.

Tracy grabbed the coffeepot. She stopped at several tables, filled the cups, pulled sugar and cream packets out of her apron, and finally arrived where Sam sat calm, almost serene staring at the book he held.

“It’s freezing in here today. Want me to warm up your cup?”

No reply.

“It feels bitter by this window.” She touched his coffee mug. “Goodness, that’s a little chilled. You’ll never stay warm drinking that. Let me fix you a fresh hot one.”

Sam stayed quiet. He placed the book on the table, open. One blank page, one with scribbled nonsense. Tracy worried. So I was right. I did see blank pages. But the scribbles caused her some concern. Could he be an old mad scientist, too smart for his own good?

Tracy laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” She gave him a tiny pat.

When he gave no reply, she walked away. Part of her was elated he hadn’t snapped when she touched him. The other half worried he had mentally departed this earth. She fixed his usual drink and went back to him.

When she sat it on the table, he said thanks but kept looking out the window. Tracy turned to leave, but his hand grasped her wrist. It was cool, not clammy, dry, not rough.

“Do you need something, Sam?”

“What would you do if you found out it was your last day to live?” He studied her face like he had his book.

“Well, I wouldn’t be here,” She laughed.

“Where would you be?” The pressure on her wrist increased.

Tracy wanted to panic, but she was sure that wasn’t the right response. She looked from her hand, which was turning white to Sam’s earnest, desperate face. She knew she had to answer him, but what to say? Where would I spend my life day alive?

Tracy closed her eyes. She breathed in. She released it. Where would I rather be?

An image of a place she had always loved visiting, a place she said she would live if she could, appeared.

“The beach,” said Tracy.

“Any beach, or one in particular?” Sam still had her wrist, but he loosened his grip.

“That’s tougher to answer.”

She thought about it. She could just blurt out any name, but his passion about this made her seek inside herself for an answer. Since she had never been asked how she wanted to spend the last day of her life, she hadn’t ever considered what she wanted from life, what she desired to do one last time?

Sam held her arm and waited for the answer. She knew he wouldn’t pressure her to speak. His patience told her he really cared about her answer.

“If it were my last day on earth, I would want to begin it by watching the sunrise in Hatteras. After that, I would make my way to Manteo to visit the shops I love one more time. Then work my way up the coast, eating at my favorite places, sitting on the beach, maybe play with someone’s dog on it. The day would end with me viewing the sun going down at Back Bay.”

Sam let go. “That sounds like a perfect ending.” He smiled at her. It was a sweet, tragic smile that mixed bittersweetness with envy, joy, and pain.

“I always wanted to see an ocean, but my fear of drowning kept me away from water.”

“You’ve never seen a beach? You’ve gotta go to one, Sam. They’re the most magical places on earth. There is something about being on the sand, watching the waves, that brings a sense of balance to your life, your soul. Oh Sam, go to one. You don’t have to get in the ocean. You can seat away from where the waves crash on the shore. Its magic will still work on you, as long as you can see the water.”

“Perhaps, one day, I will go then.” He patted her hand and pointed to the counter. “You have a guest that needs you.”

Tracy looked over her shoulder. “I’ll be right there.” She turned back to Sam. “Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you. You’ve given me everything I needed today.”

Tracy made her way to the counter. Her attention shifted from Sam to someone else. While she was putting together an order, her ears caught Sam speaking.

“Tracy, I hope you get to live your last day on your beach.”

When she looked up, all she saw was his back through the glass door. He turned and waved. She waved back. Several minutes later she heard a not too far off noise. It was a combination of screeching of brakes, broken glass, screams, followed by a brief silence.

“Sounds like someone wasn’t paying attention to driving,” said a person at the counter.

“Yep,” said Tracy as she handed them their coffee. 
 After they left, she picked up a rag and cleaning spray. Her mission was to wipe down the tables that had been used this morning. When she got to Sam’s, she found his black book and an overstuffed envelope on the table.

“Curious.” She looked at the cover. It had a title, but no author. “More curious.”

She turned it over to see what was on the back and spine. Nothing, just the words on the front; Expiration Dates.

“Odd title for a story.” She shook her head. She didn’t know where Sam lived, but he would be back tomorrow and she would return his things to him.

Tracy sat the book and envelope on a chair and wiped down the table. When she finished, she reached for the book. It slipped from her hand. A folded piece of paper landed by her feet. Tracy picked it up. It was warm as if it had been recently handled. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, she opened it and instantly wished she had not. The words on the page drew her in.

If you can read this, I am sorry. For most people, the words in this book are invisible. Only a few have the sight to read them. I once thought it was a blessing. Over time, it became a curse.

Everything in life has a beginning which is birth and an ending which is death. If you are reading this, then you have now been given the most awful knowledge in the world. From now on, everyone you look at, you will see their expiration date, the day they will take their last breath. You’ll never know details about how they are to die, only the date they will expire.

The blessing in this curse is that yours will stay unknown until your time is almost up. The person from whom I received this book told me to make the most of life before it ends. My advice to you is; Follow your dream before it’s too late and encourage others to live as if it’s their last day. I should have heeded his wisdom

The paper fell from her hand. She opened the book. Inside, where there had been blank pages, were now scribbled notes, names, and dates. The first name on the first page was Sam Waters. Underneath his name were two dates; November 24, 1959, and January 26, 2021. That’s today. That can’t be my Sam.

She scrolled down the list, then began flipping the pages. She stopped randomly to read. Some names she knew well. Others she had never heard of. A few that caught her eye were relatives who had passed.

Tracy threw the book down. She didn’t want it. Her hand reached towards it. She forced it to pick up the envelope instead. Inside was a handful of thousand dollar bills and a napkin with writing. She pulled it out and read.

My Dear Friend,

You have been so kind these last few years. Today, however, it is goodbye. I am sorry you will carry this burden, but I leave you everything that I have so you can live your dream before it’s too late. Today, start making plans to move to your beach and live all your days there, not just your last one. Sam.

Two officers came in. They spoke about the accident which had ended Sam’s life. As Tracy handed them cups of coffee, a future date appeared on their foreheads. She shrieked.

“Sorry I spilled some coffee on me.” She pretended to wipe it off. When they left, she closed the shop. Tracy walked home chilled from shock. Words from the letter circled in her head. This is not the town I want to die in. She called a realtor to list her business and made a list of things to do. Thanks to Sam and his little black book, she got the push she needed to live her dream.