She sat down with a sigh of content. Leaves falling to the ground. The smell of cinnamon and coffee mingling. She looked around. People from all walks of life scattered around close to each other. Sharing their warmth and stories. A table across from her held a older man and three young children. A single dad taking his three kids to grab hot chocolate and cookies. No wedding ring. Maybe today is his today with his kids. Another table held three young girls. Textbooks and laptops filled the table. Perhaps studying for midterms. And then there was her. Alone in the same table that was directly to the left of the door. She glanced at the seat across. Barren. No tall, dark stranger casting secret glances at her. No warm brown eyes attempting to gauge at her secrets. She felt disappointed. She sighed into her mint green tea. Pulling out her journal and pen she set them down. It was going to be a brutal two hours of straight writing if God so helped her. She bit her lip. Her eyes caress the last line she wrote.
‘The tall stranger shook her hand. Gently squeezing. “Until next time.” He leaned in. He smelled of fresh pine and cologne. His lips grazed her cheek. His short beard scratching her skin. It felt nice and oddly comforting. She smiled back with a short nod. They each turned away and walked on into the cold November wind.’
She continue to stare at the lines ad if they were going to jump out of her journal and dance across the cafe. This was the downsize of being a writer. Once the inspiration is gone it’s very hard to get back. She was stuck and this time she didn’t have a brown eye hunk to lure her mind into the imagination world. She sighed irritably. She had a feeling this was going to happen a lot today. She cast her eyes once again around the place. The father looked tired. His black tie was loose and the first two buttons of his checkered shirt was undone. He hadn’t had a clean shave in a few days. His pepper salt hair was pushed back with his fingers. The bags under his eyes showed that he hadn’t gotten much sleep and his hands looked dry and cracked. Signs of a hard worker. His body said one thing but his eyes shone with joy while looking at his three kids smiling faces. A part of her was jealous of the kids. Seeing how happy they were to have a father. She felt grateful that they were being shown that love. Right at that moment the door ding. She quickly looked towards the door. Her heart sank. It was a short woman with blonde hair and green eyes. She looked towards the children and smiled. The mother. She kissed the father on the cheek and sat closed to him. The kids yelled, “mama.” A happy family she hoped. She glanced at the journal. She nervously picked up the pen. She glanced back at the family and tentatively began to write.
‘Walking down the street lined with tiny shops she smiled. Breathing in the crisp November air she smiled. Looking around to see people walking oblivious to the beauty around them she sighed. For a moment she enjoyed life’s beauty but now reality was setting in the closer she got home. She took her time walking, wanting to savor every moment of peace that she could. She stared up at her building and open the black gate and walked up the steps. She took out her keys and with a sigh open the door. The house was quiet and dark. She stepped out of her shoes and hung her coat and scarf. She tip toe into the dark kitchen. The house was empty. She glanced around at the sink filled with this morning dishes. Her mother would be home soon. She took a deep breath and began washing. She saw her mother had took out meat to defrost. “Dinner for two,” she said into vacant air.’
She set her pen down and bit her lip. Her story was taking on more depth. She was writing without considering where her story was heading. Instead she just took what inspiration was around her and wrote. Her drank in tea in silence while taking a mini break. Thoughts began swarming in her head, pitching potential ideas of how to go about the next part. Would the mom be mean? Would the mom be nice? Is she single or married? Is it a happy marriage? She was so occupied in her thoughts she hadn’t notice someone slip into the chair across from her. Her heart began to hammer when she noticed a cinnamon colored hand was setting down a black coffee that she hoped had two sugars. She felt her stomach twist in knots. Her hands felt sweaty as she desperately rubbed them against her black jeans. She cursed at herself. It most likely wasn’t even him. How could she be reacting like this to a possible stranger that might be the exact stranger that she barley spoken let alone flirt with from the other day? Maybe it was because it was the first time in almost a year a man had made her feel nervous and excited. The first time in a year were a man had made her heart flutter and her brain agitated with interest. This probably isn’t Mr. Sexy Brown eyes. All she had to do was look up. Just look up to see if it was him. But she was afraid. Instead she avoided the stranger across from her like the plague. Instead she got up and grabbed her tea. “Leaving already? Isn’t two teas later and you’re done?” She froze in place. She stared into warm brown eyes framed by long dark lashes. His smiled revealed the slightly chip left tooth. His chest lifted up as he breathed stretching his burgundy flannel. With a deep breath to calm her nerves. This time she smirked, “one tea down. One to go.” She turned around and made her way into the line ignoring the urge to look back. Should she?