Welcome To The Writers Block Café

Prolouge

The water splashed around her as she chased after the trolley. She clutched her blazer tight around her, panting slightly. The vehicle wasn't slowing down, and she was getting tired. Finally, she stopped running, breathing heavily as she watched her only transportation home ride off without her. She looked at the top of her umbrella and let out a sigh. Her light pink skirt was now damp at the hem and the shirt under her matching blazer was sticking to her skin.

She glanced around for a place to step into, seeing nothing but shops... and then she saw a sign, with dim, flickering yellow lights struggling to illuminate the word "Café." She walked towards the building, deciding to wait there until the next trolley came.

She stepped into the dimly lit building, the smell of freshly brewed coffee attacking her senses. There was a small bar at the back, a bored looking man half-heartedly wiping the surface with a rag. There were many small empty tables placed within the limited space. She took another tentative step deeper into the place, not wanting to disturb the peace. There were very few customers at the moment, but the scuffed floors and framed newspapers on the wall claiming the place to be a five-star café told a different story, one of late nights, bright lights, and many a customer once upon a time.

She continued to look around her, and completely missed the man hiding behind the newspaper at the table closest to her right. She accidentally hit the table with her umbrella, causing a small cup of tea to spill all across the table and onto the man's shirt.

He folded his newspaper, brushed the drops of tea off his baby blue t-shirt. As he looked up to see who bumped into him, he saw the blue-eyed blondie before him, looking mortified at the mess she'd caused.

"I'm so sorry, mister!" she whimpered meekly. "I really am! Should've paid more attention, what with this thing here," she stated, shaking the umbrella slightly. "Again, so so sorry! Can I pay for your drink?"

"Oh, no, no, it's quite alright, miss," he said casually. "Really, it's no trouble. Please, please, sit down, sit down!" He motioned for the man behind the bar to clean up the mess. "Now, I can't help but notice that you seem a bit stressed. Are you alright?"

She sighed, and nearly collapsed into the seat. "I've had a rough day. I nearly missed the trolley this morning because I overslept, and work was horrific, as someone I trusted to finish the article decided to go out partying instead, and I got caught up while leaving, and I missed my trolley," the woman rambled for a little while longer while the man listened intently. When she finished, she apologized for rambling, to which the man said there was no need.

"Everyone needs to get things off their chest every once in awhile." he said kindly. "If you're human, you need to let off steam."

"I wish everyone thought like that," she sighed. "It would make life so much easier."

The man only nodded, lost in his own thoughts.

They talked longer, learning what the other enjoyed, and laughing at nothing in particular.

Then, the dinging of a trolley was heard, and the lady stood.

"So sorry to leave, but that's my ride home. Can I see you again?"

"Of course!" the man said cheerfully. "When can I see you?"

"Tomorrow. Here. My lunch break is 11:45 to 12:30. Does that work?"

"Absolutely! Do mind me asking where you work?"

Barbra pointed to the newspaper that Phillip had been reading, "The New York Times sir." She turned to leave, then turned back. "I never caught your name!"

"Phillip. Phillip K. Walter," he said proudly.

"Barbara C. Rockswell," she replied. "I'll be seeing you, then!" And with a quick wave, she smiled, and was gone, running to catch the trolley.

Phillip smiled, ordered another cup of tea, opened his newspaper, and read on with Barbara's smile replaying in his mind.

|so excited to be working on this book with my amazing and talented cousin lyrical_for_life  |