The Writer's Cramp 8/31/21
I do love me some coffee. That wonderful caffeine boost that’s a stimulant that is also legal. So I stood in line with all the other addicts.
We all ogled the stale pastries. I know that scone was made yesterday. See that muffin? Probably the day before yesterday.
And the tea? I imagine stagnant pond water would taste better. Give me coffee, a good strong cup of Joe.
Gladly I paid the exorbitant fee for my drug of choice. I sipped that coffee where I stood. I couldn’t wait for a seat to open. The coffee shop is that busy.
“Come here often?” he asked.
“Pardon? You talking to me?”
“You seem to be standing on my briefcase, so, yes. I’m speaking to you.” Kind eyes and a gentle smile took away any anger I may have felt.
“Sorry. Waiting for a seat, you see.”
“Well, there’s one. Share a table?”
We sat together, his name is John Wilson. He works just down the street from me, something to do with a non-profit.
We chatted for the better part of an hour. I totally lost track of time. Did I really have to be to work at 9 AM? Couldn’t I be just the wee bit late?
John was the first to leave. “See you again tomorrow? I enjoyed our talk, Marie. We can pick it up again over this overpriced coffee.”
“That sounds great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
We separated for the last time. I fix our coffee at home now. It’s much less expensive that way.