A Beautiful Piece Of Broken Pottery

Chapter 2:

After a rather restless and dreamless night filled with worries, anxiety and fear. I had woken up and decided it was time for me to face the world again and I knew the perfect way to do so. I had decided to take a long walk and grab a muffin or two along the way. Walks have always been my escape. I always loved the way walks made me feel, it has always helped me clear my mind and rid myself of all of the baggage I have been carrying on my shoulders. I’ve always loved walks for it gave me time to hear the birds chirping and children playing on the streets, happiness radiating off then, so innocent to the world and highly unprepared for what the world ahead of them has to offer.  I’ve always love Walks for it has been a way for me to find a safe place. To find my safe haven. To follow the passion of my second love. My love for music.

My love for music started at a very young age. I clearly remember the first time I fell in love with the feeling music gave me. My love for my guitar ran deep. It all started roughly 14 year ago when my grandmother had bought me a mini pink guitar that I had played night in and night out waking neighbors and chasing birds away. As I walk along the beach trail I find a walk away and contemplate taking that route or continuing on a route that I know is familiar and safe. Of course when as anything in my life ever been safe so I choose to take the mysterious walk away route. I walk and walk and it feels like I have been walking for eternity when in all honesty it could have been a few minutes. On the other side of the walk away I find a cute little coffee shop named coco bean. I walk in a place my order for a double espresso, after the night I had I needed to straight up chew on a coffee bean to help me stay awake.

I got a seat at the back of the little café where I made sure I would not be disturbing anyone when I start playing my guitar. I strummed my fingers to the beat of the music and I never felt so alive. The beat took control of me and I had gotten lost in the melody of the strings. I felt so alive. I felt like the music was giving me a sense of freedom. Freedom means a lot of different things to different people but freedom to meant that I feel happy, means that I was free from all the demons that kept me awake at night, I never felt more freedom then when my body swayed along with the guitars melody. Maybe I felt too much of a sense of freedom and maybe I got way to lost in the melody because a sound of someone saying “One double espresso” broke me out of my freedom zone. “One double espresso” came again. Was I dreaming, was this what heaven feels like and then I felt it, I felt the gush of ice water being flung onto my face socking me from head to toe. I jolted up and began to charge at the person who decided that pelting me in the face with the worlds most ice water would be a clever way of waking me out of my safe heaven. Ever heard of shaking someone, or pinching him or her to see if they are alive. “You inconsiderate idiot” I screamed out as I looked up to meet the most captivating brown eyes I have ever seen. “Well I had to make sure you weren’t a wax figure now didn’t I” said the brown eyed god standing in front of me. And when I caught a glimpse of his chiseled jaw line and plump pink lips I couldn’t for the life of me remember what I was so mad at in the first place.

“Didn’t your mama ever tell you not to stare at people” said the Greek god himself. “Didn’t your mama ever tell you not to throw ice water on a lady” I retorted back. “Not that I remember, but mama did tell me make sure that there are not any dead pretty girls in the café” he said with a smirk clad on his luscious lips. “Smooth” I replied dryly, clearly I was in no mood for his kindergarten flirting.  I’ve seen toddlers flirt better than him. I gabbed my coffee and began to drag my now soaked body out of the booth in order to start my walk home and pray I don’t catch a cold on the way there. “Wait where are you going?” asked this guy who clearly cannot take a hint. “Home where does it look like I am going? Clearly unlike you I don’t have an intentions on carrying on with my day in wet clothes” I replied rather annoyed. I am wet and cold and just want to go home, change and curl up in bed with my favorite books but someone decided this would be the most appropriate time of day to gussy up a conversation. Can’t anyone ever be considerate anymore?