Transtemporal. It’s a 6.

…”You the guy on the phone – Roger?”

Nick’s question boomed, echoes resonating, errant soundwaves in search of a solid surface. The effect was not so much from the authoritative tone of the bearded Proprietor’s voice but more from the unusual circumstance the Six Sentence Café and Bistro was empty, the exceptions being Nick, the Bartender and the musician without a band, Roger. It was well known as the popularity of the Café grew, so too the rumors surrounding its origins and the 7 Proprietors who frequented the establishment; as the mystique evolved so too an aura of “otherworldliness”; business was good.

“Yeah, so that must make you, Nick”, sarcasm dripped from the musician’s mouth like sap from a newly tapped maple; the bearded man volleyed, “Say Rog, you forget to bring the rest of the band?”

Nick and the Bartender, sharing a harmony culled from free floating cosmic debris, smiled at each other without moving a muscle in their faces; Nick took out his phone, sent a quick text, his chestnut brown eyes fixed on Roger, “A drummer will be here in 30 minutes, you already met the bass player, so make yourself useful and help me set up the house equipment; we’ll just see what you can do“.