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I could tell you the story of what really happened, but that would be no fun. No one wants the truth. They want the fantasy, no matter hoe gory or outrageous it truly is.

There I was minding my own business and sitting in the middle booth at the Corner Cafe – a little nook tucked away off Seventh – where no one but me came to sip coffee and play a game of Solitaire. With real cards. None of that computer crap I saw everyday I walked from my apartment to the restaurant. All those blank faces distracted by their tiny screens and angry birds.

I should have been writing, but words faltered and remained stuck in my head. To busy my mind, I passed the time with cards and chatting to Rosie, the blue-haired waitress with arthritic hands which shook when she set my coffee cup on the table.

I liked this place, although I had no idea how it stayed open, given the only customer I ever saw was me. My endless refills of coffee could hardly keep this place in business…

And then one day, the glass door jangled and banged shut, trapping inside two giggling voices, breathless, almost giddy, like they were in love.

“Table for two, please,” a female’s voice chirped.

Rosie gestured to the empty restaurant.

“Don’t think that will be a problem,” she shrugged. “Seat yourself.”

Despite my silent please, a young couple plopped themselves into the booth in front of me, interrupting my blank view of the wall. They sat together, their backs facing me, whispering furtively.

“Do you think anyone say us?” the boy asked, glancing out the window.

“I doubt it,” the girl giggled. “Let’s just enjoy the afternoon before they figure out I’ve disappeared.”

I recognized her voice from somewhere. The brilliant hair of fire, too, neatly pulled into a bouncing ponytail at the middle of her head. She was someone famous, internationally known for her big doe eyes and brilliant smile.

And he was a nobody. I could tell. The way he hunched forward, then sheepishly eyed her, his cheeks blushing at her innocent stare. He lacked the confidence of a leading man, but she like that. Thought it was cute.

“How long before they know?” he asked her.

She laughed, “Oh, I’m pretty sure they already know. But who cares? Let’s have lunch! I’m starving.”

They cuddled together, lost in each other’s self, as I listened to their murmurs, sighs, and tender remarks. The outside sun crept behind the skyscraper across the street, and shortly after, they were gone themselves, their clandestine rendezvous drifting away with the words I had heard that afternoon.

– Written on March 28, 2012

About 365 Things to Write About

I'm inspired by almost anything and everything creative - nature, architecture, art, words, music...I like to roam along streets, through foreign countries, and within my mind where the world is full of endless possibilities. I dream of being an idealist, but I've experienced too many harsh realities for that wish to ever be true. Therefore, I look for the hope and the good in small nuances, and I express my thoughts and feelings about the world around me on pages and canvases whenever I can.

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