Jo had been in a lot of strange places like broom closets full of whispering mugs, the espresso machine dimension, even a vampire boardroom where the snacks were just a suggestion, but nothing compared to Holdspace.

It was  beige.

Endlessly beige.

Beige skies, beige ground, and beige furniture that looked like it had been assembled by someone who hated joy. The hold music, a slightly warped version of “Smooth Jazz for the Damned”, hummed without beginning or end.

Jo clutched her chipped mug like a weapon. “This is hell. No, worse. This is an airport lounge without Wi-Fi.”

A voice answered from the next beige cubicle. “Oh, welcome, newbie! You get used to it around the six-thousandth hour. Name’s Carl. Been on hold since nineteen seventy-four. Thought I’d be first in line for eternal torment. Turns out there’s a backlog.”

Jo peeked over the cubicle wall. Carl was a skeleton in a suit who was sipping coffee that steamed but never cooled. His tie was patterned with tiny screaming faces. “Does anyone ever get off hold?” she asked.

Carl laughed. “Sure. After you answer the Security Questions of Doom. What’s your mother’s maiden scream? Favorite abyss to stare into? You know, the usual.”

Jo groaned and sat down at a beige desk that appeared under her. 

On the desk was a rotary phone,  a stack of forms titled Form 999-Q: Petition to Escape Eternal Muzak, and a half-finished crossword puzzle where every clue seemed to be another word for despair.

Meanwhile, back in Cedar Grove, Mira was pacing Harmony Café and muttering about resonance spells. Matteo was furiously calibrating the espresso machine and trying to channel a rescue shot. Sev was consulting his historical tomes. The Queen of the Hollow Moon was dramatically draped across three chairs and sighing about the tragedy of it all, while Jeff was chewing his pencil.

“So, um, if Jo’s stuck in Holdspace, technically she’s our team lead now? Like, by proxy? Should I make a Gantt chart?”

Clorvex growled. “We’re not Gantt charting. We’re saving Jo.”

Back in Holdspace, Jo picked up the rotary phone.

A robotic voice droned, “Thank you for holding. Your estimated wait time is forever. Please remain summoned.”

Jo slammed her mug down. “Not if I’ve got caffeine.” She took a sip, squared her shoulders, and muttered: “Alright, beige void. Let’s dance.”