(I found this amidst my writing.)
A young woman sits in a coffee shop hunched over a notebook, writing. She writes a few sentences, then props her head on her hand and chews on her thumbnail. She stares idly out the window.
The blinds like bars, the barrier between her world and the outside world. She can see out, but those on the outside have to make an effort to see in.
Do they know anything about my world, she wonders.
It is bright outside, almost too bright. There is not a cloud in the sky. Outside there is a McDonalds in view. Cars drive down the street and on the other side of the window people are walking by. A homeless man walks close to the window pushing his shopping cart.
There is no camaraderie on these streets, its everyman for himself (she thinks)
Across the four lane highway couples and other residents can be seen walking placidly down the street. The two sides of the street are like night and day. The far side is seemingly friendly and carefree, while this side of the street is harsher, dilapidated and disparaged.
She turns her head back, still looking out the window to see what’s happening on the corner behind her. Another homeless man walks through her line of view. A fight breaks out on the corner.
She sighs a sigh of relief. Despite the invitingly sunny day, she is relieved to be inside.
She adjusts her focus to two pairs of men walking down the street opposite her, past a vacant lot. There is a sign, Marios. The lot must have been a restaurant at one point. A homeless man walks by.
She leans her head back down and writes some more. She crouches uncomfortably low over her writing. She looks up and watches a very nice car try to Parallel Park next to the coffee shop. It looks out of place. The Car gives up and drives away.
She looks across the table at her friend sitting with her. The friend is intently typing away. She is distracted by a purple cab just beyond her friend. A man hops into it.
The cab drives off to reveal a man standing in the middle of the street as he waits for an opening to cross.
A man rides by on his bike, someone is chasing him.
She grabs her coffee cup and takes a sip. A homeless man walks by.
She writes a little more. She stops and looks around the coffee shop. There are two students at the table opposite her. They are talking about something to do with housing code. They are loud, an easy distraction. She sneezes.
Bless you (says one of them)
At a small round table in the middle of the place is a girl with a pink bandana. She waits impatiently for someone.
News is playing on the television in the background, its Bush.
She sips her coffee and writes something down. Between two blinds she can make out “happy hour” on a sign across the street. She lets the words go in and out of focus. She shakes her head and looks around again.
The impatient girl looks disappointed as she pulls out a little notebook and writes something down. The girl sullenly rests her head on her hand.
Two guys walk by the window. Both are dressed in light pants, dark jackets, blue button up shirts and striped ties. Twins. They get into their Mercedes and drive away.
I wonder what they were doing, she thinks to her self.
The impatient girl has finally left. A guy walks down the street eating churches chicken.
She takes a sip of her coffee.
There is a guy in a white turtleneck waiting for someone. He walks along the curb, up and down the row of meters three times. He stands with his arms folded looking into the oncoming traffic.
He hails a bus.
This isn’t a bus stop, she thinks to her self.
The news is now showing clips from the nation’s most recent massacre.
Media has no morals any more
She grabs for her coffee cup and looks away from the Television. She goes to take a sip. Empty. She walks it to the garbage, packs up her things at the table, and walks out the door.
Bell rings on her way out.
