Go to a local café, park, or public place and write a piece inspired by something you see.
I’ve always loved the idea of coffee, it seems ever so sophisticated to me, if only I could sashay over to the barista and order some delightful caffeine concoction. The issues being that I hate the taste of coffee, so today I head to the barista and have my usual, “medium hot chocolate with cream and no marshmallows. Please.”
I take my drink and retreat to a spot in the back of the cafe. Quite, dark and empty..like my heart! Ok maybe not, sometimes I just like to make time for myself, to be by myself. I like to sit in places like this, headphones on, book in hand and stealing glances from the people who whizz by me.
A few tables away a Mother is sat with her young son, he is slurping a vibrant yellow drink and telling her all about the time he scored the winning goal at school.
By the front window a man sits alone, he is wearing a suit and tie and is sporting a large wrist watch which he is obsessed with. He stares at it’s face and then looks out the window, takes a sip from his drink then looks back at his watch.
There are two baristas stood behind the counter, one leans against the wall and twirls her hair round her finger. The other stands proud, shoulders back, chest out and feet firmly rooted to the ground, he smiles and winks to the girl cleaning the tables. She giggles and scurries away into the back.
A booth nearby is overflowing with teenagers squealing about one thing or another, from what I can hear there gossiping about friends and boys. A blonde girl in a denim jacket proclaims, “he text me saying ‘hey babe’ he obviously fancies me!” This leads to a very intense discussion as to how she should respond to this cryptic text.
Outside a fashionable looking man sits at a table, I wonder why he is braving the cold wind, he tries to light a cigarette and now I understand. Several clicks of the lighter achieve nothing, he tries to shield the flame with his hand, unfortunately he succeeds only in scorching his hand and having the wind whip his cigarette down the street. I laugh to myself, “poor chap.”
I love to sit alone and spectate as life goes on around me, people rush about with no regard for little old me sitting in the corner… Although I wonder, is anyone else in this cafe is making mental notes on what I’m doing?