Chicklit Prompts || COMPLETED

If Walls Could Talk

Prompt #16

You know that little coffee shop down Maple street right across the old newspaper factory? You probably don't. That place was where my teenage years were spent. I was never anywhere else on a Monday afternoon. It was everything to me, Jesus what happened there.

If walls could talk they would tell you of the time I jumped on the bar and kicked over plates and plates of waffles and coffee. Or the time I got a hundred dollars to chug all the syurp from the glass containers on the tables. I was sick for weeks after. Mom wouldn't come near me because I smelled 'too sweet'. Is there really something that is 'too sweet'? The walls would say that I was crazy reckless teen and wondered why the owners Lenny and Crystale kept letting me come back. They only knew me through my mom. She worked for them. I must of racked up thousands of dollars in replacement windows. I always ended up breaking the same one. I remember one time they had just shook the window guys hand and I tripped a cord and I went through the window. Lenny was so mad, but I just laughed.

My greatest adventure would be the time I stole my mom's key to the shop and broke in with my boyfriend at the time and had a make out session across the tables in the back. We got caught but if walls could talk they would warn us of Lenny still cleaning in the back. Our faces when he turned on the light, I cringe when I think about it.

Also could of warned me of the time that the floor was wet and Crystale forgot to put a sign up, and I broke my ankle. If Walls Could talk. They would tell stories and tales of my reckless years, and it wouldn't stop there either.

Walls also would of written a better eulogy for Lenny than I can, or would have written one period.

I stood up and brushed my dress off. The church was quiet and sad sobs echoed, I didn't think of what I was going to say, or notice the white flower covered casket in front of me. All I thought about was, if these walls could talk. What would they say? All of the greving people that walked through its arched doors, or how it was sad to have to watch funerals especially ones where nobody came. Like if someone were forcing its eyes open with a crowbar or glue. I closed my eyes and soaked in 30 years of family-like friendship and 5 years of lost connections.

"You know that coffee house on Maple street right across from the old newspaper factory. That's Lennys Place and if the walls could talk it would talk about the pastel blue paint Lenny painted, or the pitcure of the dogs playing poker in the center of the back wall. Walls would talk about the grease fires that seemed almost endless. Late night's and quiet mornings, most of all it would talk about life of Lenny Smith, but only if walls could talk."

Word count: 524