A/N: Hey everyone! this is just a one shot that I came up with while talking to my good friend J.S. Lewis about Starbucks! lol. Enjoy, and check out his stuff!.
p.s. theres a URL in here that I had to fudge with to make sure it went through so bear with me.
p.p.s. i wouldn't take the names seriously, by the way. i come up with those on my own.
A bent shape huddled in the far corner of the local Starbucks. Dressed in a dark coat and blue jeans, the shape gripped a fairly chewed stub of pencil between cramped fingers, cursing the inspiration muses. He thought coming to this little cafe would benefit his senses, and the hot latte beside him would boost his energy. Wrong.
Darren stared at the paper in front of him, willing it to tell him what to write. It didn't work. He tried looking at his surroundings within the cafe. He gazed at the other customers, the people working at the counter, the coffee cups, the price signs...didn't work. He tried looking outside at the cars passing and the people hurrying by in the November cold...didn't work. Fed up, the tall, thin teen threw his pencil onto the table and glared at it. "Dammit..." Darren mumbled.
"Excuse me?" a voice asked above him.
He looked up, a bit startled after being drawn out of his writer's world. "What'dya want?"
The short girl standing by the table made a gesture toward the other seat at the table. "Can I share your table?"
"Uh, sure" He shrugged.
"Thanks. Hey, you a writer?" the girl questioned as she sat.
"Yea, how could you tell?"
"You had that look on your face. I get it when I can't figure out what to draw." She pulled a large sketch book out of the bag she was carrying. "I thought this would be a nice place for inspiration."
Darren leaned over the table to see what was in her sketchbook. A half-finished picture of a fallen angel with stylized wings filled the page. His eyes widened. "That's good."
"Not as good as some others I've done, but ya, it's alright."
Darren sat back in his seat. "So....what's your name?"
"Oh. I'm Dee, sorry. And you?" Dee stuck out a hand to shake.
"Darren." He shook her hand.
"Nice to meet you, Darren." Dee wore a pair of baggy camoflauge pants, a black shirt and a heavy coat. Her brown hair hung messily in her eyes, which she brushed back impatiently with one hand. "What'cha writing?"
Looking at the blank page, he sighed. "Nothing at the moment. I can't get any ideas."
"Try not trying to think. Let go of everyhting, and let thoughts wander through your head at will, then if somehting hits you, write it down."
"How do you know so much?"
"I write too. Do you know of a site called FictionPress(dot)com?"
"Yes! I write for that site!" The brown haired boy exclaimed.
"So do I! I have so much stuff on there," Dee laughed a bit.
"I have a few things myself. What's your pen name?"
"Oh, it's really strange. It's CissboX, c-i-s-s-b-o-x."
Darren raised an eyebrow. "That is strange. Mine is J.S. Lewis."
"Cool. Well, why don't you try that writing, and I'll get this picture finished, ok?"
"Sounds good." Darren pick his pencil back up and poised it above the paper, clearing his head.
TEN MINUTES LATER
Looking up proudly from a finished poem, Darren noticed that his table-mate was missing. In her place was a pencil drawing of him at the table, his face scrunched in concentration on the paper before him. It looked quite comical, actually. Placed on top of the drawing was a scrap paper with a number and email address. Below in a cramped hand read "Thanks for the inspiration ;) Call me! Dee".
Standing to his full height of 6'5", Darren whipped out his cell phone and entered the number. He and this Dee would meet again.
A/N: hehe.....only J.S. Lewis would really get the entirety of this....;);) cheers