Inspriation struck me on a mid-day shift at the coffee shop. I was rushing to get inside when I dropped my laptop. With a deep sigh I picked it up and examined the damage. The screen was broken but it was still usable. I had to pump out a few more stories on this thing, if I was going to survive the end of the year.

My name is Crystal, I'm a struggling writer and a part time barista. The day had been long and uneventful and on my break I chose a seat furthest from the counter and took out my broken laptop. I sat there for about 10 minutes, mindlessly running my finger over my keyboard. Waiting, hoping for a new story to leave my fingertips.

There, in my own little bubble, I didn't notice the company that had joined me at the table. I looked up and was startled to find a little old man across from me. "Um, I'm sorry did I take your seat?" I said, unsure of what he wanted.

He smiled, "Oh no, I just figured you could use a little company, you looked like you were lonely." Well I was unsure about how to take that.

"Oh no, I'm just hoping for a little inspiration," I said with a smile, he seemed nice enought and, come on, how many mass murders are little old men?

"In what form?" He asked, looking like he was ready for a conversation.

"Well, I'm a writer," I said, "and I need a new story, I just cant think of any right now."

"A new story huh? Well I could tell you mine?" he said kindly. I didn't want to waste his time, I can be very picky.

"Oh no, it's really o-"

"It starts out on a cold day" he said, eyes unfocused.

"Um-" I started.

"You might want to take notes" he said, "Your in for a long one." I decided I didnt want to be rude, what would it hurt to sit a few moments with this lovely old man. Who knows? I might get some good idea from his story.

It turnes out I was right, this is what he said:

It was a cold day, as cold as her heart. I was about 17 and looking for some action at a local bar. I arrived sometime late in the evening and I was already pretty tipsy. My friends had to pull me inside and sit me on a stool. I remember glancing around, looking for a pretty girl to take home. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a beautiful dark haired woman. I knew that I would have to be smooth, she looked like a tough one. As I approached her I flashed my most handsome smile. I was good looking and I knew it, boy was I arrogant. I look back on those days and almost wince at how self centered I was.

I smiled at her and expected her to immediately smile back, I usually had that effect on most women. When she didn't, I immediately assumed she was either in a relationship or gay. She had long black hair and striking brown eyes. he features were small and she had perfect skin and lips. Almost as if she was made of wax, no wrinkles, no worry lines, but no smile lines either. She had a blank look about her, it was slightly intoxicating.

I stood there for a second, deciding whether or not I should speak. I barely remember but, I do know that we sat there for a few tired minutes without a word. I was piss drunk and she was bored. I remember being carried out by my buddies that night, and I remember her face so clearly but, with the alcohol and the old age, I've almost forgotten.

I went back the next day, hopefully to re-kindle some memories and a small part of me hoped she would be there maybe I could make a new impression.

I entered the bar and glanced around. i looked at the corner where I remember seeing her and there she was. In a similar dress, with her hair done the same way, with the same blank look on her face. This time she was sitting down. I went up to the bar and ordered a pop, it was 10 in the morning anyway. I grabbed my drink and approached the booth. I took a deep breath and asked, "May I sit?" with my usual charm to full effect. She looked up, eyes unfocused, and nodded slightly. I sat. For a minute I lost the words underneath my tongue and sat there sheepishly.