A writer writing and sipping coffee - Heartbreak
For a thousand years, writers have been sitting in coffee shops (and bars) writing stories. It's early morning, 5am or so, and I am waiting in Starbucks for the Barista to prepare my commuting coffee. I see this fidgety guy at a table, let's call him Joe, and I start to make up a story about him. Joe’s arms rested on the table holding his cell phone. He looked up and stared out of Starbuck’s window. He watched the sparse number of pedestrians passing by. About what he expected for early morning. He looked down at the picture of her, the one he secretly took of her in the office. Her hair was up in a bun showing off her beautiful face and cleavage. If there was a flaw, it was her nose, a little bulbous. Could use a bit of reshaping and a wee bit less width. Joe smiled. At least better looking than the last girl he perused. And what a leech she had been at the end too. Couldn’t accept when it’s over, it’s over. ” Your turn baby,” he wh...