Writing is an art. Storytelling is an art. I love to do both, so why not share with you?
Jeff Goins has challenged me recently to step out of my comfort zone and share with the world, so here goes it. I wrote this short story sitting in my favorite coffee shop last year. It’s been sitting in an Evernote file since then, but now I’m sharing it with you.

Enjoy.
She glares at the back of his plaid, wrinkled shirt, staring at his salt and pepper hair as the bottom of the coffee cup tilts with his head. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t look back. For three hours she’s been sitting in the tiny coffee shop and he hasn’t moved an inch. She wonders if he even knows she’s there.

The phone rings and interrupts their productive silence. A quick stare confirms he is indeed aware of her existence. She talks and nods as to confirm to the recipient on the other end of the line that she indeed cares about their conversation. The truth is, she doesn’t. Caring seems to be far from her radar.
Everything inside of her screams to reach out to the stranger in the room, believing if he knew how she felt, perhaps he could rescue her from the pain. The pain that eats away every second of every day. She wonders if he got one glimpse into her eyes if he would see that her smile is simply a facade. She hides it from the world. Won’t he see it? Won’t someone pay attention?
Perhaps he is the one. Maybe he is the guy that will sweep her off her feet and take the reality of shame away. If only he would look back once more.  He tilts his head again for another sip of coffee and loses himself in the world of spreadsheets and emails. Another person in the world that doesn’t understand.
For a moment, however, she pretends he does. He drops his napkin from the vintage cafe table and as he reaches down to pick it up, sees her. He smiles and says, “Hello.” She returns the greeting. This time their eyes lock and blue and green hues meet for what seems like an eternity. His eyes spell understanding as hers spell relief. Over coffee they spill details of their lives as though they’ve known each other for years. His spreadsheets disappear and cupped hands over hers take their place. Bliss.
She’s told him everything and yet he stays. Secret after secret is revealed and the harder they become to share, the more his gentle smile wipes her fears away. Could it be love? She wants it to be. Does he want the same? She gets her answer, as he stands, takes her hand and pulls her close. They dance to Sinatra and the world disappears around them. It must be love.
The phone rings and she takes a double look as the reality of her surroundings shock her. Another daydream. She nods again on the other end of the line, as his footsteps grow distant. His plaid shirt fades and soon he is out of sight. It’s gone. Her dream of rescue is over. All that’s left is an empty coffee cup and the overwhelming feeling of loneliness.
Perhaps tomorrow will again bring a glimpse of light.