[ WP ] The new coffee shop you 've been frequenting has always seemed off to you . But you never would have guessed-

I've always thought there was something weird about I've Bean Here Before. No, not the terrible pun, that's common enough. They make a wickedly good latte, which is why I keep going back, but great coffee is n't what got me thinking. It's the mural on the wall behind the counter. It's pleasant enough to look at - an artsy scene of people sitting at tables, drinking coffee. But for some reason it unsettles me, and today I try not to stare at it too closely as I hand over cash for my usual latte. 
 
 I focus instead on the barrista's pretty green eyes and the spiral tattoo on her collarbone. Was she new here? I had n't noticed her before. She hands me my change and I stuff a few dollars in the tip jar, which earns me a smile. The latte is as delicious as ever, and I go about my normal day doing normal things. 
 
 I return a few days later for more of that fantastic caffeine. The barrista is one I recognize - short, cute, and always grins when he hands me my latte. This time there's a wink too - `` Pretty soon I'll have to start calling you a regular!'' 
 
'Do n't mind if you do,' I think to myself, pausing to enjoy the shape of his shoulders as he reaches for flavoured syrup on a high shelf. As I turn to leave my eyes fall idly on the that mural again. I think they must have an artist in house, because there's fresh paint and some unfinished spaces where they're adding things. In my perusal I find myself transfixed by the various faces. They seem horribly flat and yet at the same time a little too... alive. Looking at them suddenly makes me queasy and I rush to leave to enjoy my drink in peace. 
 
........ 
 
 Man I love those lattes. I consider myself a regular now and I'm familiar with most of the barristas. I ca n't quite shake the heebie jeebies from that mural, but the amazing coffee and the attractive barristas more than make up for it. As I stand in line for today's order, something feels different. The mural I've tried so hard not to look at is a tangible force pulling my gaze, and everything else seems muted. Through the haze I hear the barrista ( the girl with the pretty green eyes, now my favorite ) ask for my order, but I can only stare at the back wall. Stare at the finished additions to the mural. Stare at the new people at their artsy tables drinking coffee. Stare at my own face, looking back at me. 
 
 The world tilts. What is up or down? Where am I? Everything is light and color. 
 
 And then as quickly as it hits me, the rush of vertigo disappears. I'm still in front of my favorite barrista in that weird little coffee shop. But something's not right. I'm... behind the counter? And facing the wrong way, towards the front door. I try to move, to speak, but I'm paralyzed. The barrista smiles at me fondly, pats my face, and says, `` Now you're *definitely* a regular.'' 
 
 Then she turns away to greet a newly arrived customer, who flirts casually as she takes his order. `` That mural is really unusual,'' he says, `` So life-like! I swear that one guy looks like someone I saw here last week. Are you the artist?'' 
 
 `` Oh, all of us here are,'' she replies, `` And we love capturing our regular customers in our work. Who knows? Maybe you'll end up there too some day!'' 
 
 `` I hope so!'' he laughs. 
 
 I can only scream, silently, and wallow in my despair. It was just a mural. How could I have guessed?
