I almost feel bad. I opened this email to compose my thoughts to you, and instead I’ve done nothing but talk about this bitch from the coffee shop who has desecrated the integrity of a true writer and certain percentages of humanity. Not that I’m a true writer. Having a slew of published short stories and a free online blog, does not make someone a true writer. However, it does make my judging her a little more appropriate, and adds a whole new level of humor to her private phone conversation being loudly spoken in the middle of a coffee shop. By no means am I being hypocritical either, I like to do my writing at the library or at your house, which is where I’m supposed to be headed, but I stopped here to get a cup of coffee and potentially a brownie – I heard one of my favorite baristas was working. She always under cooks a brownie and sets it aside for me when she works the morning shifts.
That was one thing she always made sure to do for and with herself during the Winter. Then one foggy day, Alice met a man. She had been getting ready for a holiday drive around when she found $8 crumpled up in her car. She decided to take that money and up her ante for treating herself. She was in line and the nearest coffee shop ready to order something large, warm, overpriced, and delicious when she walked directly into the man ahead of her. They laughed, she apologized, they chatted, and before she knew it it was 9:30 at night. Alice still hadn’t gone on her holiday drive, but she had enjoyed herself. Max was kind, charming, and bought her a hot coco with extra toppings to make up for taking up so much of her holiday cheer time. Included in the extra toppings was his phone number. Alice blushed and grinned simultaneously. Maybe holiday movies were real, after all? She thought as she chuckled and disregarded this thought to herself.