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The warm streets on a Tuesday afternoon had become colder, and the bustling city view that has a promise of life kept rolling from day to day. On a busy work day, I burn cigarettes on a sidewalk to keep my grubby hands of ink and ash from a cigarette that had gradually stuck on my cuffs dirtying it.
I was sitting on a bench in the middle of Russell square unlike the streets a wee bit far, this has a serene feel to it. Very few people would walk here on a weekday and it was the best time of the week to ponder on the greens and smell the fresh air.
The fresh ink splatter made blotches of dyed black on my cream pages, trying to brush them off with my thumb but it makes it messier eventually getting on my coat sleeves and painting half of my hand.
"Ugh, damn.. " - Off
It's specially chillier today, as my breath blew making smoke in the air. Bloomsbury always has this melancholic feeling when you visit these victorian themed parks like you would go back in time in just a flick of your thumb.
I ripped the dyed page and threw it making 3 pointers on the bin. I could not save the other pages but oh well do a writer like me have a choice, the paper was cheap, yeah but if you're trying to get by just for every day it's a fortune to waste just one notebook.
I've never been one to use electronic stuff as I prefer this method, it gives me feelings and flows differently on paper than on screen. My laptop was left at my desk in my small apartment anyways collecting dust.
I thought I had to write soon before I get mentally frustrated at something again. Experiencing a block is common for us writers and well, it's very common to me. I need a subject.
I didn't realize there was someone already standing beside me as I stared blankly out in the open. He just sat there not minding me at all. I would look over him, there are empty benches near me so why. Then I would sigh I thought this would be a peaceful afternoon but it's not. The heavens must be punishing me for being a prick, I should have taken business instead as my parents would but no my dramatic ass wanted to be such an awesome writer I took up literature and this is what happens. I resigned sighing more loudly than before.
"It must have been hard?"- New
"Huh?" - Off
I looked at him and he was tilting his head as if waiting for my reply with that handsome smile of his it made my cheeks hot for a moment, I didn't realize he was such a hottie, he looked ordinary at first when he is just wearing a cap. Now he has taken it off I can see the soft fringes on his forehead cascading down as he tilted his head at me, his plump lips pressed red and moist cherry it must taste like cherries, He had these expressive doe eyes one confusion painted over them and then worry.
"I'm sorry did I disturb you?"- New
"Ah no, I was just resting its no bother" - Off
I frantically raised my hands as his brows shot up and crumpled in a questioning manner that I wanted to straighten them with my fingers his pale white skin must be soft to touch, it's red in the right places, oh, and a mole beside his eyes another on his nose. Does he not mind that I am staring way too long at him?
