She sat in her usual place, at her usual time, staring at the cup of coffee in front of her. She had a nodding acquaintance with a number of the regulars but, fortunately, none of them ever wanted to chat. This was her time, a chance for her to be alone, lost in her own thoughts.
She noticed the man settle himself into his customary spot in the corner of the room. As usual he took out a red note-book and started writing. He paused occasionally to take a sip of his coffee but he never looked up. She wondered what he was writing.
As soon as he came in he noticed her in her usual place. Once he had half heartedly smiled in her direction but she hadn’t seen him. She just sat there, staring into her coffee cup, oblivious of the world around her. He wondered what it was that she sat there thinking about.
She wondered if she should get herself a note-book. Maybe writing her thoughts down might some how help her, go some way to making the pain go away. If she did she would have to make sure that it was not a red note book.
Whenever she was there he found it increasingly difficult to write. That sad face and those doleful eyes seemed to drain him of any creative ideas. It struck him that the only solution would be to write about her. He decided to get a new note-book devoted solely to this mysteriously sad stranger.
The next time she came for a coffee she tentatively took out her new blue note-book and began writing. Once she started she couldn’t stop, her deepest fears and most intense feelings just flowed on to the page. She was so busy she never noticed him come in.
He sat in his usual place. He had so much that he wanted to write down. He was so eager to get started that he hadn’t even looked up to see if she was in. He took out his new blue note-book and started writing, her whole life just flew on to the pages.
She noticed the man settle himself into his customary spot in the corner of the room. As usual he took out a red note-book and started writing. He paused occasionally to take a sip of his coffee but he never looked up. She wondered what he was writing.
As soon as he came in he noticed her in her usual place. Once he had half heartedly smiled in her direction but she hadn’t seen him. She just sat there, staring into her coffee cup, oblivious of the world around her. He wondered what it was that she sat there thinking about.
She wondered if she should get herself a note-book. Maybe writing her thoughts down might some how help her, go some way to making the pain go away. If she did she would have to make sure that it was not a red note book.
Whenever she was there he found it increasingly difficult to write. That sad face and those doleful eyes seemed to drain him of any creative ideas. It struck him that the only solution would be to write about her. He decided to get a new note-book devoted solely to this mysteriously sad stranger.
The next time she came for a coffee she tentatively took out her new blue note-book and began writing. Once she started she couldn’t stop, her deepest fears and most intense feelings just flowed on to the page. She was so busy she never noticed him come in.
He sat in his usual place. He had so much that he wanted to write down. He was so eager to get started that he hadn’t even looked up to see if she was in. He took out his new blue note-book and started writing, her whole life just flew on to the pages.