For today’s Writing 101 assignment we were given the theme of a coffee shop, and as soon as I read that I knew I had something for it. I have a notebook which I sometimes take into coffee shops and write what’s around me. It’s quite short, and I have edited it a bit and added a few things, but this is what I do in a coffee shop – when I’m not intending on spending hours in there writing blog posts that is.
My head is in a book I just bought from the bookshop across the road, a chai tea latte with soya milk next to me. I try to immerse myself in the story, but no matter what I did I could still hear everything. I could hear the strangely hypnotic, but irritating, music. I could hear the hissing of steam and the grinding of coffee being ground. But it’s the constant chatter that made me put down my book and finally give in to my curiosity.
Trying to be discreet I turned slightly so the person as the table beside me was in my line of sight. There sat a man in his thirties – casually dressed, glasses wearing, and bald – accepting his delivery of two slices of carrot cake with a cheerful, “Aww, thank you,” in his faded Welsh accent. There must be another person with him. Ah, there he is. A slightly older man with the sort of white skin that seemed too lose as it crinkled to fit each expression. His soft voice began a muttering conversation where he was the lead. The Welshman must have been finding it interesting since his attention was focused entirely on his companion. I got bored quickly trying to listen into their conversation as the noise of live around them drowned out their quietly spoken words.
I turned around to focus – once again, as discreetly as possible – on another man who was obviously sitting alone. He appeared to be in his fifties, that or his hair went prematurely grey through stress. He wore a necessary suit – it was too dull and uniform for it to be a fashion choice – as he drank his coffee and read an A4 notebook filled with scrawled words. Though it was probably work related, a part of me wished it was the writings of someone’s imagination depicting a fantastical world that was too brilliant to go unnoticed.
Boredom struck again so I checked the time on my phone. It was only a couple minutes until the bus arrived, so I packed away my book, grabbed my half filled drink in it’s ‘to go’ cup, and left. Knowing me I’ll be back again soon.