She sat in Barista with her laptop, typing away with concentration framing her forehead and lips. Two coffee stained cups sat on the table. One thousand words later, she closed the laptop and paid the bill. She walked outside into the humid evening, planning to walk straight home. Then she saw him strolling by – and he wasn’t alone. He was laughing lightly and holding her hand. The girl was pretty. In that split second, she forgot how good she had felt a minute before, with all those words poured out onto the Word document. She walked away.
Walking away (Part II)