'Cocktails at the end of the world hotel' by Jack Morris

Here at the hotel at the end of the world they can get you anything you want. I lounge by the infinity pool and ask for a drink that tastes of sky. It comes in a tall glass, deepest blue. It tastes a bit like mouthwash.

‘Is that it?’ I ask the waiter.

He bows and leaves. Stars crash and collide above me, reflected in the still water.

‘I hope this will be more to your taste?’

I sip. It’s soft sunny days and fluffy white clouds, with a hint of afternoon rain. I nod. He puts another drink on the table.

‘I don’t want another one yet.’

‘For your guest.’ The drink is deep pink, with crimson undertones. It smells of sunsets and silver sand.

‘I’m not expecting anyone.’ I don’t want anyone to join me, not even at the end of the world. Not anymore.

‘Ah, but Madam,’ the waiter says. ‘Sometimes the hotel doesn’t provide what you want. It gives you what you need.’ He slips off his waiter’s jacket and sits in the seat next to me. 

We clink glasses and watch the universe explode.