inspired by my sunday morning coffee shop visit:
she walked into the coffee shop, heels in one hand, a few dollar bills and a crumpled piece of paper in the other.short black dress, a-line with a tie to the back. medium brown curls half way down her back.
she was new. not one of the regulars. she stood a moment at the counter waiting for the barista to return from the back room. at first she escaped the group's notice, but soon many of the rest of the coffee shop patrons were glancing her way. attemtping not to stare, but curious to figure out her story.
from the back she looked about 19, maybe 20. the "young professional" behind the laptop thought she looked a little odd in the setting. she looked a bit like she was headed to a meeting though sunday seemed a little odd for that. maybe that's why she was carrying the shoes.
the older couple awaiting their friends thought she might be headed to party. it was a nice afternoon for a gradation party they murmured to each other. those must be directions in her hand.
it was the barista who dared take the path, the rest were trying to avoid. just another walk of shame victim. though again a little late in the day, he couldn't fault her for it. he'd walked that route a few times himself. only he could see the smudged makeup. her mascara starting to run a little at the corners of her eye.
"a black coffee please." "it's on the house; the last of the pot." thanks she said meekly before walking out the door and sitting on the front steps. unfolding the paper in her hand, she tried to calm her nerves with the coffee. with a deep breath, she read aloud. "grandpa joe was one of my best friends. he taught me everything i know about story telling. so grandpa, this last story is for you..."
she walked into the coffee shop, heels in one hand, a few dollar bills and a crumpled piece of paper in the other.short black dress, a-line with a tie to the back. medium brown curls half way down her back.
she was new. not one of the regulars. she stood a moment at the counter waiting for the barista to return from the back room. at first she escaped the group's notice, but soon many of the rest of the coffee shop patrons were glancing her way. attemtping not to stare, but curious to figure out her story.
from the back she looked about 19, maybe 20. the "young professional" behind the laptop thought she looked a little odd in the setting. she looked a bit like she was headed to a meeting though sunday seemed a little odd for that. maybe that's why she was carrying the shoes.
the older couple awaiting their friends thought she might be headed to party. it was a nice afternoon for a gradation party they murmured to each other. those must be directions in her hand.
it was the barista who dared take the path, the rest were trying to avoid. just another walk of shame victim. though again a little late in the day, he couldn't fault her for it. he'd walked that route a few times himself. only he could see the smudged makeup. her mascara starting to run a little at the corners of her eye.
"a black coffee please." "it's on the house; the last of the pot." thanks she said meekly before walking out the door and sitting on the front steps. unfolding the paper in her hand, she tried to calm her nerves with the coffee. with a deep breath, she read aloud. "grandpa joe was one of my best friends. he taught me everything i know about story telling. so grandpa, this last story is for you..."
I really like the story and would like to know what happens next.
ReplyDeleteThe beginning was a bit slow, with the description of the girl, but at the same time it gave me a very clear picture of her looks and made her very likeable :)