They were standing by the sea. Coffee cups in hands. She caught herself thinking she was drinking so much coffee these days it could start oozing out of her ears.
“You know, there was a time when I thought I would love to retire in a place like that. Opening my tiny cozy coffee spot, talking to people, reading books, brewing fresh coffee and tea.”
“You’d be bored to death in a span of a few weeks. A. coffeeshop and you, Mulder, is a parallel universe, no less.”
“I could write something.”
She ignored him, lost in a reverie of her own.
“People don’t even sit at coffee shops anymore, Mulder, it’s all grab and go. Life is too hectic, they won’t talk to you.”
“No, no, Scully, it would be different here. I just know. You could bake some gingerbread, and we would have books everywhere, and they would sit and read, you know, and then ask for a refill.”
The urge to interrupt him before he had finished was overwhelming.
“What on earth are you talking about? Coffee? Books?”
This is how she knew. It was anything but their reality. It was anyone but her Mulder.
“Your life is aliens. You are not married to coffee, Mulder. You are married to your work. Files and all.” He turned to her, a confused look on his face.
“See you in the basement.”
The portal opened behind and she stepped in, still feeling a strong tang of the sea in the air.