Anyone care to write with me - one on one - using the opening below?
This is my style of writing and my usual length of post and I'd appreciate the same.
I see this as an illicit affair, a slow tentative start that leads ... ?
***
Starbucks is great place and for me the day doesn’t start without a latte and a fresh muffin but it can be busy in there.
The big guy shouting "Coming through" and just bulldozing a path didn’t help either.
Neither did the knock I gave to the attractive woman standing next to me. She was neat – good looking, well turned out – chic and I have to admit I’d been eyeing her up in the queue, admiring her curves when I cannoned into her off the big guy and sent her coffee flying.
"Ah shit! No, no I mean your coffee, not you. Did it go on your dress? I’m so sorry. Let me buy you another one."
The words came tumbling out of me as I tried to retrieve the situation I had imagined developing between us: the closeness of the queue, the press of the people around us, a contrived opening line - "I’m sorry, did I step on your shoe?" – or something like that.
Still that chance was gone now and all I could do was apologise for her coffee and offer to buy her another.
"Look I’m really sorry, I pay your cleaning bill…"
But she didn’t look angry. She was smiling at me, almost laughing.
This is my style of writing and my usual length of post and I'd appreciate the same.
I see this as an illicit affair, a slow tentative start that leads ... ?
***
Starbucks is great place and for me the day doesn’t start without a latte and a fresh muffin but it can be busy in there.
The big guy shouting "Coming through" and just bulldozing a path didn’t help either.
Neither did the knock I gave to the attractive woman standing next to me. She was neat – good looking, well turned out – chic and I have to admit I’d been eyeing her up in the queue, admiring her curves when I cannoned into her off the big guy and sent her coffee flying.
"Ah shit! No, no I mean your coffee, not you. Did it go on your dress? I’m so sorry. Let me buy you another one."
The words came tumbling out of me as I tried to retrieve the situation I had imagined developing between us: the closeness of the queue, the press of the people around us, a contrived opening line - "I’m sorry, did I step on your shoe?" – or something like that.
Still that chance was gone now and all I could do was apologise for her coffee and offer to buy her another.
"Look I’m really sorry, I pay your cleaning bill…"
But she didn’t look angry. She was smiling at me, almost laughing.
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