Opportunity knocks in vain if you cower behind the door
Your Move
Small Tales
John Milton sipped chai and wrote poetry at the Starbucks every day from nine until one pm. Solitude didn’t inspire him. People inspired him. He observed them from a distance, imagined their lives and what they did when they left the store.
For instance, the redhead at the next table reading Proust. John imagined she was one of those women who wanted to read romances, but wanted to impress people by reading them in French even more. Something about her earth shoes, her lopsided hairdo, and that she read a French book. Who knew Proust was French? Maybe he should have paid more attention to his lit teachers.
John imagined she was one of those women who wanted to read romances, but wanted to impress people by reading them in French even more.
A dust mote drifted into John’s eye. He blinked. The girl laughed. She closed her book, leaned forward and tapped her nail on her cup. If ever John had seen an invitation, this would be it. And wasn’t the adoration of females the only reason he really wrote? He drummed his journal with his pen as he formed his plan of action.
First, he would drag his chair to her table and…No. Too aggressive. He could clear his throat and ask if she had a Kleenex. No, because he might have to explain why he needed one. How about a killer line of poetry? But someone else’s, or his own?
John sipped chai and wrote poetry.
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Wry noir author Phillip T. Stephens wrote Cigerets, Guns & Beer, Raising Hell, the Indie Book Award winning Seeing Jesus, and the children’s book parody Furious George. Follow him @stephens_pt.
