Charming yet old sat the quaint coffee shop. A sight easily missed had one not glanced at it a second longer. Faded was the sign that read it's predictable name. 'Coffee&Tea' had once bloomed with customers young and old seeking the pleasure of a simple overheated drink to begin or possibly end their day. To many it had once been quite special: a place where memories were made and troubles forgotten. To 'V' nothing had changed. Though she duly noted the reduction in customers, still she made her way every day to the place that smelt of freshly-baked muffins, homemade breads and of course their famous coffee blend.
As an artist 'V' was always in need of inspiration. She felt as though every morning, as her thin fingers wrapped around her mug, her mind was gradually being unlocked. Sometimes she brought with her an easel and her finest paints and brushes, waiting for her head and hands to work together and create something on the ghostly white canvas that stared back at her almost teasingly. Months had passed since she had last created something worth selling. Rather than the joyous personality they were used to, barista's and waiters were experiencing a completely new side of 'V'. Her walk became strides rather than an elegant and playful skip. Her dimpled smile had morphed into a gloomy frown and her attitude had become pessimistic.
The sky was covered by a blanket of ashen-grey clouds though winter was soon to end. Although 'V' walked in with a minuscule smile upon her face that day, those who recognised her knew today was her last. She had long since grown tired of waiting and had promised herself a change of scenery if inspiration didn't come that day. Her raven hair sat just below her earlobes and reached just above her brows in a perfect 'bob' and precise 'bangs'. Her bee-stung lips were covered in scars attained through hours of vigorous thought-provoking lip-biting. Her porcelain skin had grown dull in the same way that her eyes had lost their child-like spirit.
She sat in her usual corner back facing other quaint shops including a boutique that was far over-priced. Today however, she didn't sit and observe the blank canvas instead she turned her head to the cobweb-covered ceiling in wonder. "Where will I go?" She whispered to herself.
Perhaps she could move to Egypt. No, she would have to learn Arabic. Perhaps she could move to Brazil. No, it was far too hot. She loved London and it's almost constant gloomy weather. It made her feel as thought the colours she painted grew brighter by tenfold.
Paris, she'd have to learn French. Dubai, there was no way she could afford the lavish lifestyle. Every place she named she would find fault in and though in denial, she knew she would never leave London.
At this realisation inspiration struck her with such force she could've sworn she'd been struck by lightning. "May have some water for my brushes?" She asked politely feeling her personality return as her cheeks tinged pink in excitement. Hours passed. Days passed. Weeks passed before she finally set her brush down in awe.
She'd combined the colour of the Egyptian pyramids, a red she'd seen in so many Moroccan artworks, a deep sea blue and a shade of light blue she'd seen captured in so many depictions of the Eiffel Tower. She'd created a painting that summed up her future, filled with so many possibilities.
She'd found inspiration. She felt whole again. A blue door, red brick peeking through a cream concrete wall.
She was still unsure where she would go or what she would do, but alas the canvas was painted and she'd found her inspiration.
