S1E7: Kid-Free Zone

A Work2gether Fiction Series

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At 10:03 a.m., Eddie sat at one of Work2gether’s outdoor tables, sipping black coffee from his Work2gether logoed mug and watching the town wake up.

Ever the optimist, Eddie was riding the entrepreneurial roller coaster... smiling on the outside, gripping the rails on the inside.

Inside Work2gether, through the wide front windows, the regulars were settling into their routines:

Julian already typing, Maya and Chris bickering over floor plans, Shay scribbling furiously, Danielle floating serenely.

Everything looked normal.

It felt normal.

But Eddie knew better.

Membership had slipped.

Tour requests had slowed.

Bills didn’t wait.

He tightened his grip on the mug.

Three years ago, he’d walked away from a reliable project management job — benefits, steady promotions, predictability — to build something real.

Something human.

He had a wife, three kids, and a dream that was equal parts hope and stubbornness.

Every chair inside, every kombucha tap, every bar stool was bought with scraped savings and late nights.

Even the $1,500 Terra Cafe espresso machine had felt like a reckless leap of faith.

Some days the dream felt invincible.

Some days, like today, it felt like balancing on a high wire with no net.

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At 10:08 a.m., Lou wandered past.

Lou — owner of Lou’s Hardware, two doors down, and unofficial town philosopher — carried his usual battered clipboard and a steaming mug of diner coffee.

"Mornin’, Eddie,"

"Mornin’, Lou,"

Lou squinted at him.

"You look like a man tryin’ to caffeinate his way outta an existential crisis."

Eddie chuckled quietly.

"Membership's down."

Lou leaned on the chair across from him.

"Business is like a cranky old dog. Some days it brings you the paper. Some days it chews your shoes."

Eddie snorted.

Lou tapped the clipboard once, like a judge delivering a verdict.

"You built somethin’ real. Keep the door open. Keep the coffee hot. They'll come back around."

Eddie nodded as Lou wandered off, muttering about how nobody knew how to fix a screen door properly anymore.

And somehow, Eddie’s coffee tasted a little better.

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At 10:22 a.m., reality came crashing in.

A woman barreled through Work2gether’s front door, dragging two hyper children in her wake — backpacks swinging, sneakers squeaking.

"Hi!"

"We're just here for a quick look! They're usually angels!"

Riley, who had already survived kombucha explosions and political debates this week, summoned her best fake-customer-service smile.

"Of course. Welcome."

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By 10:24 a.m., chaos had bloomed like mold.

One child tore through the laptop bar, snagging Julian’s power cable and nearly launching his MacBook into orbit.

The other plopped dramatically into the lounge chair, scattering Bev’s meticulously arranged puzzle pieces like confetti.

Chris, glancing up from his laptop, muttered:

"Whose emotional support ferrets are these?"

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At 10:26 a.m., the "quick tour" was still raging.

Zay’s smoothie narrowly missed becoming a casualty to a rogue unicorn backpack.

A carefully stacked pile of marketing flyers fluttered to the floor like leaves.

Meanwhile, Shay scribbled notes for a short story she’d later title "Murder at a Coworking Space."

Danielle, perfectly composed as ever, sipped her tea — still no food, still a legend.

"Do you offer childcare?" All the while the woman's youngest tried to unplug the coffee machine.

Riley smiled the brittle smile of the deeply betrayed.

"Only if you count free-range chaos."

The woman laughed, assuming she was joking.

Riley was not joking.

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At 10:55 a.m., after what felt like a minor siege, the woman and her tiny tornadoes finally exited.

The door clicked shut.

For three beats, no one moved.

Then Chris leaned back dramatically and said:

"And that is why I don’t work from home."

Julian, still plugging his laptop back in, added:

"That’s why I don’t work from coffee shops."

Zay nodded, wiping smoothie off his sleeve.

"That's why I don't have kids!"

Bev gathered her puzzle pieces grimly.

"That’s why I drink."

Riley slumped across the bar, staring into the distance.

"I actually really love kids—I used to nanny."

She paused, then added with deep sincerity:

"Just... not here. Not in the space. This is literally where people come to get away from them."

Everyone nodded solemnly.

Danielle, serene as ever, set her tea cup down.

Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Hey. Has anyone ever seen Danielle eat? Seriously. Like, even a single grape?"

A chorus of no’s rippled through the space.

"Maybe she photosynthesizes."

"I heard she just absorbs vibes."

Shay solemnly wrote "immortal coworker" in the margins of her notebook.

The tension broke.

Laughter rolled through the space, exhausted and warm.

Riley finally smiled.

They had survived.

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At 11:30 a.m., Eddie wandered back inside, energy refilled, shoulders looser.

The members were back at work.

The air smelled like fresh coffee instead of fear.

It wasn’t perfect.

It was chaotic.

It was messy.

It was real.

And it was his.

"Alright,"

"Who’s ready for next week’s crazy idea?"

Groans rose from every corner — but so did smiles.

The door stayed open.

The coffee stayed hot.

And the dream, somehow, stayed alive.

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Next time on The Third Place…

Riley’s productivity challenge starts with good intentions—and ends in chaos.

Zay cheats, Maya fumes, Chris philosophizes. Even the guy in a hammock outpaces them all.

And the mailman? Still confused.

Turns out, chaos might actually be the thing holding this place together.

Episode 8: “Challenge Accepted.” Coming soon.

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The Third Place is a completely fictional story about a completely real kind of place. The characters are made up. But their situations? A little too familiar. The town is fake. But also… not really.

The passive-aggressive fridge notes, the mysterious smell near the bathrooms, the lady who never stops talking, and the new guy without his headphones? Oh, they’re very real. No actual people were harmed in the writing of this story, but if you recognize yourself… your ego may be.

Welcome to Work2gether Downingville Square. See you in the next episode, or better yet… in real life.

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