The cool winter’s wind chilled the back of my neck as I walked down the long and narrow straight Trafalgar Square, London WC2N 5EJ. It was one of those days with the dark cloudy sky and the moon overlooking with a bright smile. Then, I stopped by Costa coffee. It was almost nine at night and the place seems empty. A young guy with a beautiful young lady, short brown hair, honey eyes, black T-shirt, jeans and long black coat. They were setting by the window, watching the raindrops, holding hands.
On the other side, an old weird man with three cup of coffees, dozens of papers, a laptop, pencils, and a typewriter!
“It must be a writer, “ I told myself. “ A writer from the medieval ages and the modern era LoL” I thought and smiled.
I sat at the end of the cafe, have no idea what shall I do next. I have a book for Paulo Coelho. I have not read the book yet I would like to read. The rain became worse, the old man busy in his writings. The chapping thunder began. The wind started to pick up, the wind whipping lightly . There was an eerie feeling about what was happening … Clouds mistreated about in the dark sky with a dark grey clouds. Then clapping thunder, torrential rain and heavy snowing.
I was depressed.