Ryan stayed in bed while Marie woke early. He was awake, but pretended to sleep while she fumbled in the dark for her shoes and phone. Neither had slept well. The argument and accusations they had hurled at one another still felt like fresh wounds despite the quiet hours in between.
Ryan opened one eye while Marie left the bedroom. He heard her stop in the hallway to get her laptop out of her bag and proceed to the kitchen. It was bill day, and Marie would spend the next hour or so ensuring that all the payments were made. At least she wasn't making him leave, he thought.
Ryan rolled on his back and sighed. He knew he needed to make amends. He heard Marie head to the bathroom and crept out of bed quickly. He took the coffee that had turned on automatically and added foam just the way she liked. He shaped a heart in the foam and placed the cup next to her laptop, just like he did on the day they met. Ryan left the kitchen just as Marie returned.
He went to the small living room and sat on the couch. Marie continued to pay bills. He heard Marie close her laptop and stood when she walked in the room.
The thumping of tones in my brain, the headphones were doing overtime today. The smell of overpriced coffee and croissants called to my belly while my head knew I had to keep going. I never look up, it’s suicide to look around, focus focus, focus, my brain would not let me stop writing, rather it would not let me stop killing. The small-town blonde heroine was going to find her brother dead soon, no latte was going to stop that.
He had put another heart design on her coffee. She watched each person sitting near her with their coffee designs, trying to be discreet as she looked. There were designs of leaves, of swirls, and one of a dog, but no other hearts.
She started to load up her email and thought there was no way he kept doing this. She came here each morning to start work as it provided a space no one would interrupt her before the chaos of the day started. She also came here to avoid seeing her ex pass her each morning at this time. It had been two years, but they still lived on the same street passing each other each morning.
Recently, he had someone next to him. He ignored her, and she ignored him, as they passed as if they hadn’t woken up next to each other for a whole year. She was truly over him but it was still awkward and felt like he was trying to make her jealous. She didn’t care about the new woman next to him. She did care none of her dates had turned into anything more. There wasn’t anyone walking beside her so she got up earlier and came to the coffee shop instead.
Her fingers started typing when she looked up to peek at him behind the counter. He told her he worked here while he started his art business. A possible turn off for many, but to her she was intrigued. It seemed such a cliche rom-com situation but she couldn’t resist.
She looked around and felt it was safe to leave her laptop as she felt the blush come to her cheeks walking towards him. She had never been the one to approach first, but after a month of heart coffee designs, she thought it might be safe to try.
I love it! I think Sheila is all of us at one point or many in our writing journeys. I also went in a writer's direction. And got myself a cappuccino to satisfy the craving the picture caused.
Heart's Dilemma.
Blair is having a dilemma, and not her usual dilemma of being mortified because she’s just made a fool of herself in front of the cute barista in her favourite hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. No. This dilemma is much worse. She’s writing, or attempting to write truthfully, the final battle scene of her trilogy of books, and she has to kill off a character. Well, technically she’s the author so she doesn’t have to, but in her heart, she knows it’s the right thing for the story.
“Stuck, Dearie?” Beatrice, the nice woman who owns the coffee shop asks as she sets another mug of cappuccino by her laptop. Bea is the only person in Blair’s life who knows she’s the person behind the name Lori Stevenson, author of a fantasy series that’s blown up in large part due to social media. “Cara thought you could use a little pick-me-up,” she says with a wink.
Blair flushes, well aware that Bea has noticed her crush on her part-time barista. “No spoilers,” Blair winces at the sharpness of her voice. She hadn’t meant to sound annoyed; she’s just frustrated with herself. It’s an ongoing joke with them, as Bea’s granddaughter is a huge fan of her series. Mentally, she crosses off another character from her potential death list. She can’t bring herself to kill off Bea’s granddaughter’s favourite character. “Just…having a moment,” she adds in a more pleasant tone. “Tell Cara thanks for me?” she requests after a quick glance toward the counter to find Cara missing.
“Of course, Dearie,” Bea smiles and pats her shoulder.
Blair feels her cheeks heat up after glancing down and finding a heart foam in the middle of her drink. She should take a break, close her laptop, just enjoy her drink without the stress, but she won’t, not when she’s so close to finishing her first draft and so close to her self-imposed deadline. With a little reluctance, she takes a careful sip of her cappuccino so she doesn’t ruin Cara’s heart, then turns her attention back to her screen. Would it be cheating if she just flips a coin to make a decision on which character to kill?
The coffee was perfect, just the right balance of sweet and good, strong, coffee. So, why was what I saw on my computer screen so wrong? A rejection letter, but not just rejecting my work but calling it juvenile. Well, it was a children's story after all, what did they expect? I sipped my coffee, knowing I should not be too offended, that I should try to learn and grow from this rejection letter, but it was so hard.
She recognized it was time to move on. This cafe with its morning sprinkle of solo laptops, writing pads, screwed-up faces, the ubiquitous cuppa —it had become the cave of a monster of her own making. Theresa had introduced her to the place on their third date.
She shook her head at the thought of her wife now someone else’s love. Everytime she walked into the cafe she looked for Theresa, but of course there was no sign of the redhead.
Josie sighed. Taking a sip of her mocha, she turned her attention back to her story. Her MC was contemplating how she would take care of her ex and their new partner. She shifted in her chair carefully. She didn’t want anyone to see the gun.
Michael gently set the white ceramic cup in front of Emily, as he had every morning since his arrival. She stared at the wafting steam rising up from the coffee, a multitude of emotions flickering across her face.
He had turned away and was busy preparing something in the kitchen, the clinking of cutlery and sound of shifting items an oddly soothing noise.
"Why?" she asked.
The bodyguard turned back to look at her, a blonde eyebrow arched in confusion. "Why... what?"
"Why do you bring me coffee every morning?"
There was a small 'thump' as he set down whatever he'd been preparing. Emily wasn't sure why she refused to lift her gaze from the coffee.
"Because you drink it every morning?" Michael walked up to her and glanced at the cup. "I promise you it's not poisoned."
"It would defeat the purpose of having you as my bodyguard."
"Yes. I think your father would be very mad."
She hummed in thought and slid the cup closer to her, ignoring the almost imperceptible relieved drop of the man's shoulders. Was she really that scary?
"I've been perfectly able to make my own cup before you came into my life."
"I have no doubt. But I..." he trailed off. Here Emily risked a glance at him. He seemed almost... sheepish? An unusual emotion for her otherwise confident and cocky bodyguard. She took an innocent sip as he continued to struggle for words. "I just wanted to do something nice for you," he finally muttered.
That she hadn't expected. She set her cup back onto the saucer a little less elegantly than she would have liked. "Why?!"
"Is this going to be the theme of the day?"
"I've been so...so... cold to you!" she continued, surprised.
"Yeah, well... I think having thugs and assassins trying to inflict bodily harm entails you to a little bit of crankiness."
Emily gaped at him. Where had her father found this guy?
Michael shifted a little uncomfortably. "This whole situation will be easier to manage if we don't hate each other. And, I don't know, I figured giving you some coffee would be a good first step to winning your trust."
She took another sip, this time enjoying the richness of the drink and the slow warmth it brought.
Been working on poetry for fun. So wrote a Dizain for the mini-challenge. It's simple, but fun practice! Enjoy...
There is a sweet foam heart on my coffee.
I came to this little cafe to work.
Dragged myself in with my laptop groggy.
The day had begun with caustic remark.
For more spice I order cinnamon bark.
The barista marked my hesitation.
Sweeping me up in a brief flirtation.
I secure my coffee with heart foaming.
The remark forgotten, work forsaken.
The modest kindness sets my mind roaming.
I love this, thanks for sharing!
Nice!
Ryan stayed in bed while Marie woke early. He was awake, but pretended to sleep while she fumbled in the dark for her shoes and phone. Neither had slept well. The argument and accusations they had hurled at one another still felt like fresh wounds despite the quiet hours in between.
Ryan opened one eye while Marie left the bedroom. He heard her stop in the hallway to get her laptop out of her bag and proceed to the kitchen. It was bill day, and Marie would spend the next hour or so ensuring that all the payments were made. At least she wasn't making him leave, he thought.
Ryan rolled on his back and sighed. He knew he needed to make amends. He heard Marie head to the bathroom and crept out of bed quickly. He took the coffee that had turned on automatically and added foam just the way she liked. He shaped a heart in the foam and placed the cup next to her laptop, just like he did on the day they met. Ryan left the kitchen just as Marie returned.
He went to the small living room and sat on the couch. Marie continued to pay bills. He heard Marie close her laptop and stood when she walked in the room.
"Sorry," he said.
"Me too," she answered.
I immediately knew these people. Well done!
Congratulations to the high school winners! 🥳
The thumping of tones in my brain, the headphones were doing overtime today. The smell of overpriced coffee and croissants called to my belly while my head knew I had to keep going. I never look up, it’s suicide to look around, focus focus, focus, my brain would not let me stop writing, rather it would not let me stop killing. The small-town blonde heroine was going to find her brother dead soon, no latte was going to stop that.
Oooh! You are torturing your character. Nice!
He had put another heart design on her coffee. She watched each person sitting near her with their coffee designs, trying to be discreet as she looked. There were designs of leaves, of swirls, and one of a dog, but no other hearts.
She started to load up her email and thought there was no way he kept doing this. She came here each morning to start work as it provided a space no one would interrupt her before the chaos of the day started. She also came here to avoid seeing her ex pass her each morning at this time. It had been two years, but they still lived on the same street passing each other each morning.
Recently, he had someone next to him. He ignored her, and she ignored him, as they passed as if they hadn’t woken up next to each other for a whole year. She was truly over him but it was still awkward and felt like he was trying to make her jealous. She didn’t care about the new woman next to him. She did care none of her dates had turned into anything more. There wasn’t anyone walking beside her so she got up earlier and came to the coffee shop instead.
Her fingers started typing when she looked up to peek at him behind the counter. He told her he worked here while he started his art business. A possible turn off for many, but to her she was intrigued. It seemed such a cliche rom-com situation but she couldn’t resist.
She looked around and felt it was safe to leave her laptop as she felt the blush come to her cheeks walking towards him. She had never been the one to approach first, but after a month of heart coffee designs, she thought it might be safe to try.
I love it! I think Sheila is all of us at one point or many in our writing journeys. I also went in a writer's direction. And got myself a cappuccino to satisfy the craving the picture caused.
Heart's Dilemma.
Blair is having a dilemma, and not her usual dilemma of being mortified because she’s just made a fool of herself in front of the cute barista in her favourite hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. No. This dilemma is much worse. She’s writing, or attempting to write truthfully, the final battle scene of her trilogy of books, and she has to kill off a character. Well, technically she’s the author so she doesn’t have to, but in her heart, she knows it’s the right thing for the story.
“Stuck, Dearie?” Beatrice, the nice woman who owns the coffee shop asks as she sets another mug of cappuccino by her laptop. Bea is the only person in Blair’s life who knows she’s the person behind the name Lori Stevenson, author of a fantasy series that’s blown up in large part due to social media. “Cara thought you could use a little pick-me-up,” she says with a wink.
Blair flushes, well aware that Bea has noticed her crush on her part-time barista. “No spoilers,” Blair winces at the sharpness of her voice. She hadn’t meant to sound annoyed; she’s just frustrated with herself. It’s an ongoing joke with them, as Bea’s granddaughter is a huge fan of her series. Mentally, she crosses off another character from her potential death list. She can’t bring herself to kill off Bea’s granddaughter’s favourite character. “Just…having a moment,” she adds in a more pleasant tone. “Tell Cara thanks for me?” she requests after a quick glance toward the counter to find Cara missing.
“Of course, Dearie,” Bea smiles and pats her shoulder.
Blair feels her cheeks heat up after glancing down and finding a heart foam in the middle of her drink. She should take a break, close her laptop, just enjoy her drink without the stress, but she won’t, not when she’s so close to finishing her first draft and so close to her self-imposed deadline. With a little reluctance, she takes a careful sip of her cappuccino so she doesn’t ruin Cara’s heart, then turns her attention back to her screen. Would it be cheating if she just flips a coin to make a decision on which character to kill?
The coffee was perfect, just the right balance of sweet and good, strong, coffee. So, why was what I saw on my computer screen so wrong? A rejection letter, but not just rejecting my work but calling it juvenile. Well, it was a children's story after all, what did they expect? I sipped my coffee, knowing I should not be too offended, that I should try to learn and grow from this rejection letter, but it was so hard.
She recognized it was time to move on. This cafe with its morning sprinkle of solo laptops, writing pads, screwed-up faces, the ubiquitous cuppa —it had become the cave of a monster of her own making. Theresa had introduced her to the place on their third date.
She shook her head at the thought of her wife now someone else’s love. Everytime she walked into the cafe she looked for Theresa, but of course there was no sign of the redhead.
Josie sighed. Taking a sip of her mocha, she turned her attention back to her story. Her MC was contemplating how she would take care of her ex and their new partner. She shifted in her chair carefully. She didn’t want anyone to see the gun.
That went dark fast. Lolol
Inspiring 🙂👏
Michael gently set the white ceramic cup in front of Emily, as he had every morning since his arrival. She stared at the wafting steam rising up from the coffee, a multitude of emotions flickering across her face.
He had turned away and was busy preparing something in the kitchen, the clinking of cutlery and sound of shifting items an oddly soothing noise.
"Why?" she asked.
The bodyguard turned back to look at her, a blonde eyebrow arched in confusion. "Why... what?"
"Why do you bring me coffee every morning?"
There was a small 'thump' as he set down whatever he'd been preparing. Emily wasn't sure why she refused to lift her gaze from the coffee.
"Because you drink it every morning?" Michael walked up to her and glanced at the cup. "I promise you it's not poisoned."
"It would defeat the purpose of having you as my bodyguard."
"Yes. I think your father would be very mad."
She hummed in thought and slid the cup closer to her, ignoring the almost imperceptible relieved drop of the man's shoulders. Was she really that scary?
"I've been perfectly able to make my own cup before you came into my life."
"I have no doubt. But I..." he trailed off. Here Emily risked a glance at him. He seemed almost... sheepish? An unusual emotion for her otherwise confident and cocky bodyguard. She took an innocent sip as he continued to struggle for words. "I just wanted to do something nice for you," he finally muttered.
That she hadn't expected. She set her cup back onto the saucer a little less elegantly than she would have liked. "Why?!"
"Is this going to be the theme of the day?"
"I've been so...so... cold to you!" she continued, surprised.
"Yeah, well... I think having thugs and assassins trying to inflict bodily harm entails you to a little bit of crankiness."
Emily gaped at him. Where had her father found this guy?
Michael shifted a little uncomfortably. "This whole situation will be easier to manage if we don't hate each other. And, I don't know, I figured giving you some coffee would be a good first step to winning your trust."
She took another sip, this time enjoying the richness of the drink and the slow warmth it brought.
"Well, you do make a pretty good cup."