Blank paper.
I stared at it while twirling the pen in my hand as I looked out of the coffee shop window. I was searching for inspiration. I looked back at my stack of blank paper and clicked my pen. The plain whiteness bothered me, so I closed my eyes. Nothing. Sighing, I opened my eyes to see the blank paper still mocking me. I reached over and crumpled it up in frustration and placed it into the trash can next to me. People walked by me without looking at me or seeing me.
I mean, that’s okay. It was something that came with being dead.
I clicked the pen even more as I stared at the next sheet of paper. Still plain, blank, and white. What did I want to say? What did I so desperately want to write?
I doodled on a napkin as I chewed on my thumbnail, a bad habit I’ve had since forever. I listened to the chatter and talk in the coffee shop and paused to look around. I decided long ago that people were fascinating. Whether they played on their phones, or talked with friends and family, or simply read or looked out of the window, each and every person was fascinating. That was how I meet Colby. Fascination.
I gasped and turned and scrabbled down it down in the middle of the blank page.
Fascination
I sat on the edge of my seat with my pen in my hand, waiting for the rest to flow out.
But it didn't.
I sighed in disgust and leaned back in my seat. I dropped my pen down on my paper and crossed my arms and looked out of the window.
It was summer time, and everybody was out enjoying the sunlight and freedom. Kids ran around, laughing and screaming as they ate ice cream and rode their bikes. Couples walked around, laughing and talking and staring into each others eyes. Elderly people talked happily with each other in the outside seating of cafes. People wore bright, light colors and dresses and skirts and shorts and, different clothes. I chewed on my thumb as I looked at my outfit.
I was wearing the same thing that I wore on the day that I died. I felt myself slide out of the present and fly to the past in my memory, to that cold January day that I died.
I was driving home from seeing Colby. We had gone skiing and went back to his house for food and video games. We listened to music, watched all of our favorite movies, and argued over the better actors and actresses.
After finishing The Land of The Lost with Will Ferrell, I checked my phone to see that it was midnight. And the fifty text messages from my parent’s didn’t help matters.
“Crap,” I said scrambling up. “I have to get home, my parents are going to kill me.”
“What? No, don’t go,” Colby said as I climbed out of his lap and picked up my purse. I turned and looked at him. He was so handsome. High cheek bones, raven black hair and piercing green eyes with tanned skin, despite the winter months. His lips were a kissable pink and full. He held onto my hand, trying to pull me back to him. “Don’t go driving now, it’s too dangerous. Call your parents and stay the night, or have them come and get you.”
I rolled my eyes and smiled and let him pull me back into his lap. “Colby, you know just as well as I do that they’d rather have their toe nails pulled out then have me spend the night at my boyfriends house. They’d never let me.”
“Not even if I promised I’d make you sleep on the couch?” He offered with a smile. "No, I'll sleep on the couch, you can have my bed." I rolled my eyes and kissed him. He cupped his hand around the back of my head, running his fingers through my hair, and held me close and kissed me back. After a while, I regretfully broke away from him.
