-Good morning, Lee! Can I have the usual?
-Good morning to you too Joe! Said the barista with his usual sweet smile.
Yes, Joe got acquainted with the part-timer whose smile intoxicates the whole air with the sweetest sensations.
Somehow, slowly, she has been more often interacting with people. A day before, she suggested and handpicked some oranges to an old lady at the supermarket. Her whole body filled with warmth as she accompanied the cute lady to the cashier booth.
-So, any progress? How's that novel so far? Asked Lee, to get his update of the day.
-I would not call it a novel per say, it is entirely different than what I usually write about.
-I am sure it's going to be a great read!
-I ...I hope so...replied Joe with a seemingly sorrowful expression.
A writer's deepest fear: The unsatisfaction. The real validation is one's own and hers, never was to begin with.
Of course, people's say is terrifying, no matter how indifferent our reaction towards it can be. We crave that undying attention, admiration, and praise.
That is simply to quench the thirst of our own acceptance towards ourselves.
A sudden jingle can be heard. A customer entered, Joe engulfed, is greeted by a familiar voice.
-Hey, Joanna. I somehow overslept, says Eric.
His bed hair still could be noticed. He must've rushed here, is what she thought, happily.
Joe and Eric have gotten accustomed to meet every Saturday morning, in table ten. Almost becoming their secret ritual.
All was new to the both, yet as natural as it can be.
YOU ARE READING
Blue Bird
Ficción General"Intertwining everso into our own verse" The lovely first steps of a lonesome soul... Cover cr (ig) : @issam_hammoudi
