Mitchell had a goal, and a grande peppermint mocha. He wrote inspirational articles about his lifestyle, a new one every day, sitting at the table by the window of Starbucks. He arrived every morning precisely as the cute one with the brown ponytail was unlocking the door. They didn’t ask for his order anymore. Headphones on, MacBook Air open, write.
Human connection, Mitchell wrote, is the thing. He liked that line. Simple, to the point, evocative. Mitchell likes words like evocative.
A rap on the window interrupted Mitchell’s train of thought. It derailed, words like train cars running into each other, uncoupling, falling asunder. Asunder is another evocative word that Mitchell likes.
A homeless man in a shoddy winter coat waved excitedly at Mitchell through the glass. He smiled earnestly, crookedly, with dirty teeth, and held out his hand.
Mitchell gives him the finger, and writes.
Photo: Robert on Flickr