Is it really March already and I've last posted in December? Oh my. I still find myself thinking about that last post almost every day, so I hadn't realised how much time it has actually been.
I have started a completely new life, au pairing in England for the spring. It has its ups and downs and sometimes the downs overwhelm me. Sometimes the whole job just overwhelms me. It's been nice, though, and I've learned so many new things. In the same time, however, I haven't had much time to all the old things in my life. Like writing.
I've drabbled some things for my and Chrystal's collab project, but nothing internet-worthy. I keep thinking about editing (or even finishing) my NaNo, but haven't got around to that either. I did start the sexuality text I talked about in my last post, but it's still in a very early stage and currently I don't very much like how it's turning out. So it might be a while until I get it to a place where it works and I like it and I'm ready to give it to the world to read.
So, to give you something to read besides my thoughts on how I've got nothing, I'll try and write something on the spot. If it's terribly bad, you know why.
Genre: contemporary, drama
Rating: A
Warnings: -
A/N: On-the-spot-writing tends to produce partly autobiographical content. Stress on partly, though. This is a work of fiction and the narrator is not me. Thanks to Liberté for your coffee shop AU comment;)
The world has never been this full of cute people, I wonder to myself as I sit in a coffeehouse in my new hometown. I found the place on my second day here and so far haven't entered another establishment of the same category. I haven't needed to. This place makes all sorts of excellent cakes and the best hot chocolate ever.
"Look out for that coffee shop AU", my friend told me when she heard about the place. She forgot one thing, though: I'm not a person to whom coffee shop AUs happen. Sure, like I just said, the world has never been this full of cute people - I don't know what's in this town's water to make everyone so damn good looking - but that's just an observation. Observations don't lead to any sort of outcomes unless someone takes action.
I won't.
The first few months in this town have been tough in their own way, but I wouldn't trade them for sitting around in my parents' house, doing nothing. I love my school. I like my apartment. I embrace my coffeehouse routine. So it takes a while for me to realise that I'm not the only one observing my surroundings.
My favourite table is by the wall facing the cashier. I can see out, I can see everyone coming through the door, but I get to be in peace. Sitting across from the cashier of course inevitably produces the fact that whoever is working the counter can see me very clearly. I, however, am used to becoming a part of the wallpaper with my textbooks and headphones. I do observe that the girl working the counter on most Saturdays is exceptionally cute, but I never expect her to take note of me.
"Hi there, how are you", she says when I enter the coffeehouse what must be around the tenth time I come. "Your luxury large hot chocolate?"
I stare at her. Yes, that is what I drink every single time, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised that she remembers me by now. But no one really remembers the wallpaper they look at every day.
"Um, yes please", I say. She laughs at my confused expression. "And...", I take a quick look at the pastries. "A triple chocolate muffin, please."
"I knew you'd go for that one", she smiles. "You always go for the maximum amount of chocolate."
"I do?"
"Mm-hmm", she nods. "And then you come back in an hour or two for the iced tea to ease up on your chocolate overdose."
I stare at her a bit more. She's right. That is exactly what happens. I feel my defenses step into place.
"Oh, I love chocolate too", she says when she sees my expression grow guarded. "It's just that, that's what I noticed you for. You have respectable chocolate-consuming skills."
I can't help but laugh at this. "Thanks?"
"You're welcome", she grins. "Six fifty-five, please."
I hand the money over and as I go take hold of my table, I can't help glancing back at her. She smiles at me. I put my headphones on but no music. I have a feeling that someone might hear it, though I never blare my music, and notice me. Like a big red cross in the boring wallpaper.
I'm not sure I like being observed.
