Somewhere in the crowd

Brief sample - more to come

I growled and smirked at the foul bitter liquid. It did not, however, smirk back. How difficult was it to say the word white, honestly. This was definitely a new low even by my standards. So there i was staring into my mistakenly black coffee on a Tuesday afternoon, not bothering to wipe away the condensation on my glasses from the steam. What have I become.   

I could see the lady behind the counter now, waving her curls around the place and laughing flirtatiously at the suits ordering Americanos. Why was i jealous of her anyway, she's making coffee for a living whilst I'm sitting here with my completed novel awaiting for my agent to arrive. Must not forget the icky black coffee that was beginning to bury itself inside my soul, of course.

I continued to relive the moment again and again in my head. "Black or white" she'd said. "Hmm" I'd mumbled as she'd nodded and started up the espresso machine, while ushering forward the far more interesting suite that was towering behind me. Well one can't have it all.

And as the rain splattered the window, I gratefully remembered that i had no coat or umbrella after yet again being fooled by the sun this morning. But not all was lost on this rotten start to the week, Arlo's gorgeous face suddenly emerged from the bustling crowd.

Arlo was a strange guy. His parents named him after their favourite character from some weird ancient book where Arlo the spaceman gets thrown into a pit of Martians. Yeah, they must have known him before he even learnt to speak, as Arlo was just that. And he thinks he's the sane one.

Working in publishing for some swanky company did indeed have its uses though, eventually. As I watched him clumsily make his way to my table I recalled how this mess all started, (cue nostalgia).

I was sat in my garden on an old garden chair that smelt of shed. My daft little dog, Mitsy, was flopped out like a weird white fish soaking up the sun. Arlo emerged from the house and presented me with a gleaming, obviously expensive watch. He did like his extravagances.

"Oh look, my watch gleams different colours in the sun" He cleverly observed. I knew looking at his cheeky smile that he was getting at something. "Go on," I urged him, somewhat apathetically. He sighed that dopey sigh that causes his ruffled hair to flop down on his head. "You could easily get this you know - If you wrote that novel" he smirked and shrugged as I eyeballed him whilst he sat down beside me.

I ignored his suggestion for the fiftieth time that day. By this point he'd given up on subtle hints such as the 'I'm a writer' fridge magnet he'd 'won in a raffle'. I suppose I should mention that I wrote a column for the local newspaper, a column of which included 200 words on the most mediocre sports day event at a junior school I'd ever had the pleasure to witness. Yes, it had been published, but so had that column on whether pigs can actually fly by Mike the crazed conspiracist living up North.

Naturally, Arlo did not let this go. "You were born to write!" he practically shouted at me. He had a huge tendency to act overly dramatic at the slightest hint of any accomplishment in my small, uneventful life.

It had been a painful experience, deleting all 209 texts simply saying 'start writing - Arlo'. To my complete surprise though, one rainy day in the sheltered little avenue that I live on, I wrote.
It soon became a habit and suddenly this weird little story had emerged. Arlo gave it a once over and was actually impressed.
I sighed now as he nearly tripped over people as he made his clumsy self plummet towards me. His floppy hair jumping back into place as he took the seat opposite. He was unlike anyone else I'd met, and my closest friend.
"Well hello there" he said flirtatiously, "hello you" I replied. We always jokingly flirt with each other, it makes for a good excuse to ignore the awkward tension of him now being my agent.
He whipped out his small laptop and smirked. Arlo treated that little machine like his baby, it was his source of great power amongst this world of strange and confident people surrounding him. I watched as his cheeks turned that sweet shade of pink as the waitress approached and asked if he needed the wifi password. She totally had a crush on him, but he was yet to let his eyes meet the complicated world of women. I do believe once Arlo decided on informing a woman of how her cheekbones were the most symmetrical ever witnessed, as an opening chat up line.
So that was it now. Arlo has talked the talk and now everything is ready for my next strange and wonderful chapter in my life. I'd even been offered a book signing this Friday at a cute little bookstore downtown. My suspicions tell me that it somehow wasn't due to them liking the book, but nevertheless, I appreciated Arlo's attempt at hiding it from me. Arlo is one of the good ones, a real people pleaser, except he genuinely does care about your feelings. After coffee he offered me the opportunity of a cheeky peek at the bookstore before Friday. Knowing full well that we both were now energetically drained and dreaming of our sofas and daytime tv - I declined.
"Martha!" my mother exclaimed with open arms as she traipsed into my living room. Except those arms soon gave up before they reached me. I sighed as I noticed the bold quivering lower lip as she flopped on the sofa and allowed her velvet ginger hair to spring behind her ears. "Oh Martha, what are you wearing"