A place for thought.

Starbucks Girl, by david blankenship

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I’m sitting in Starbucks, my Mac Book Air on my lap and my tall Americano in a ceramic mug sitting beside me.  I’m ready to write, battery at 88%, soft jazz coming out of the ceiling.  A group of joggers sit at a nearby table bragging about their injuries.  A man at the table next to me reads his paper.  The man across from me takes a while to get his lap top plugged in and sets it up on a window sill, not the best choice, he has to twist and lean forward to write.  My darling little piece of finely formed aluminum sits proudly on my lap, 86% of battery life now.  Ready to write.  I just did a spell check.  My goal in a spell check is to get close enough to a word for spell check to get the right word at the first guess.  Battery didn’t even show up on the list, I had to add a “t” and then it still was half way down the list of choices.  At least I can read.

A gorgeous blonde just walked in.  Spell check almost failed me on gorgeous I almost had to type in beautiful and then look for synonyms.  (I just checked; it would have worked.)  Gorgeous.  Where does that come from?  Good enough to eat? I’d start with her toes.  Well, she would need to trim her toenails and scrub her feet real good, using one of those brushes that gets under the nails real good before I’d put one of those in my mouth.  Ok, no toes, it’s starting to make me feel just a little sick thinking about it.  Gorgeous Blonde is getting her coffee in a tall glass she brought from home.  It’s not glass.  It’s probably plastic, but I’m calling it a glass.  A tall clear plastic cylinder enclosed at one end made especially for containing approximately sixteen ounces of coffee.

Blue eyes, short blonde hair, no tan just a few freckles across her nose, short black skirt, mid calf boots.  No change that, make the short black skirt blue denim short shorts with cuffs and white leg warmers, the kind with a pattern woven in.  It’s almost thirty degrees outside legwarmers are good.   The boots are rough light brown leather with something that looks like lambs wool showing around the top edge.  A white knitted ski cap is pulled down to her ears, her short blonde hair sticks out around the edges about an inch and a half.  A bulky knit sweater crawls part way up her neck and matches her cap.  Her blue eyes sparkle as she looks around the room for the best place to sit.  Most of the chairs are empty but she catches me looking at her and smiles.  Wow what a smile. She moves the hand holding the coffee in the direction of the unoccupied padded bucket chair next to mine.  I give a slight nod letting her know it’s ok to sit there.  She kind of tiptoes across the room like she’s used to wearing heels.

         “Hi.” She says as she curls up into the chair next to mine.

         I look up to see who’s there.  Oh yes it’s the gorgeous girl.  “Hi.” I say looking quickly back to my Mac Book Air, letting her know I’m busy writing.  But she doesn’t seem to get the message.  She sits beside me sipping her drink with both hands.  Her excited blue eyes just drinking me in.  I look up from my work and looking her right in the nose, counting the freckles I say, “Hi?” questioning her stare.  

“What ya writing?” She asks not realizing how busy I am.  Her eyes are lined in green make-up and her long lashes have been glued on.

“A novel.” I respond and type a line without looking at my screen or keyboard just to point out how capable I am.  I look back to my screen, make the necessary correction, and continue writing.

“What’s it about?” she asks, still not realizing how busy I am.  Her voice is soft but not breathy.  She shows honest interest in what I’m writing as she leans forward and waits for me to answer.

“I don’t know yet, I’m only on page ninety-four.” Amazed by her lack of understanding of the writing process.  Her bottom lip pouts just a bit at not being able to trap me with her beauty.  She sips her coffee still looking at me but her expression has changed, she looks a little mad, I can see her frown out of the corner of my eye as I get another sentence on the screen of my Mac Book Air.  After a few minutes she gets up and tiptoes across the room to a chair next to a small round table.  I watch as she leaves.  Gorgeous.  64% left on my battery.   Should I get a refill on my Americano?  Sometimes the refill is free.  Sometimes a refill is a dollar eighty-five.  I wish I could know before hand if it’s free, but I’m gonna get a refill.  I notice a girl across the room; cute blonde with a white ski cap, she looks lonely. 


Author: assumptionisfaith

david blankenship is the author of three books "Randolph W. Owens, missing on Bright Island" (a science fiction novel), "Herb" (a children's book), "Jack's second Life" (contemporary fiction) and several short stories. The books are for sale on Amazon's Kindle and published in paperback by Create Space.

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