It doesn’t happen often, but when it does I take the opportunity. I’m talking about fiction. I enjoy it, but I rarely write it. Here’s a little something that hit me this morning… don’t ask, just read.
The ringing bells caught my attention and I looked up from my book. It was the third time I’d seen her in the shop in the last two weeks. The room always seemed to brighten when she came in. She passed me and I caught a wave of her sweet scent—I’m not sure what flavor— mixed with the coffee grounds behind the bar. My leg jerked underneath the table sloshing my now lukewarm coffee all over my papers.
I said hi to her once. Actually it was more like, “good morning.” She was fixing her coffee at the bar and I, um… “needed napkins.” Her dark brown eyes matched her full, curly head of hair. Those eyes flashed in a sweet smile and two beautiful words came out of her full lips, “good morning.” Ok, so it’s not a lot, but it’s a start in the right direction.
She found a chair in the corner and curled her legs up in it. I hunched over my books and tried to look busy. I read the same paragraph three times—none of it registered. Then, all the sudden I had the inspiration to write—to really write, which didn’t come often working for the paper. So I grabbed my pen and started jotting down my observations in between the coffee stains on my paper…