This is just a short and (sweet) little sequel idea that popped into my head after I finished reading Middlesex by Jeffery Eugenides.

Thanks for checking it out!

-Disclaimer-

I only own my character (Skye) and the whole plot line/idea of this story! Sadly:(

I shuffled slowly into the bustling little coffee shop, absorbing the liveliness and constant noise that remained a main feature of these buildings. While leaning on a wooden column near the bitter coldness of the constantly open door, I waited for a man who insisted on interviewing me for a book he is writing. The bitter yet sweet smell of fresh ground coffee beans wafted in the air. Customers screamed out orders to the overwhelmed baristas. Plush couches and chairs lay scattered around the room, the striped pattern, bright, cheerful and modern. Yet I, unlike the other happy and exuberant people jumbled in this cheerful shop, my head began filling with a growing dread for this interview. Intricate thoughts permeated throughout my brain, yet none described how he discovered my name in this ever flourishing world. I cannot be the only man whose father was a hermaphrodite. For my life pivots around my love for Oxford's, button down shirts, and revolving grief for a special man who joined the realm of the dead. He became someone who I could look up to and laugh along with stories of his crazy past life. Although, I guess his life affected other solemn human beings other than the depleting line of my ancestors. Glancing up from my silent musings, I spotted a slightly balding man standing in the line for the heavily sweetened coffee offered at this lively place. Can it be described as real coffee? I wouldn't know. My iridescent love for coffee abruptly halted after my dear mother passed away. As I scrutinized the older man, a faint recognition sparked in my consciousness. The eerily familiar face burrowed into my mind, yet I could not place him in the swirling depths of my sporadic memory. Worn Oxfords wrapped themselves around his feet and black jeans hugged his thin, lean frame. A stark white buttondown shirt hung loosely over bony shoulders while a thick jacket was slung over a brown leather case held in his left hand. He ordered a grande black coffee, without the cream, the sugar, and the sharp flavors that the younger generations craved these days. The comfortable expression he wore in the craziness of this shop and the quiet conversations that followed in his wake displayed an aura that depicted a kind of man that nearly ceased to live in our world today. A kind of man that I wish to portray. Yet a kind of man that I can never represent. He glanced up, and caught my frozen eyes in a warm embrace. Smiling pleasantly, he dodged the legs and feet that inhabited the wooden floors as he ambled his way toward me. ''Hello! I am Jeffrey Eugenides. I am assuming you are Skye Stephanides, Cal's son.'' He stated after accompanying me next to the pillar. ''Yes, nice to meet you.'' I retorted, a little flustered. That began the first of hundreds of meetings between us over the next five years as we planned, discussed, and laughed over ideas of his novel. The story captured a family whose history intertwined with each other like reclusive vines in a hidden garden. A family that coexisted with my own in this world, yet that family's story will survive countless years compared to the dwindling lineage of the Stephanides family.