PS: This is a small prologue to some of the short stories I will be writing. They will all be connected and I will try to post each ‘chapter’ every few days. I hope you will enjoy them.
It was a cold and rainy Saturday morning. I was sitting in a small and cozy coffee shop drinking espresso. The coffee shop could only host 25-30 people and had a handful of round dark-brown tables with 4 chairs surrounding each table. Walls were painted in brown hues, ranging from light brown to a very dark brown, almost black. The smell of freshly made coffee and an abundance of coffee beans made this rainy morning almost sunny.
Coming to this coffee shop almost every morning has become a ritual for me. It is where I can write in peace and relax. The shop has large floor-to-ceiling windows, which make it perfect to observe all those people rushing somewhere. They are always in a hurry, no matter what day it is. It also makes it a perfect atmosphere to write, at least for me. It is fairly quiet in the coffee shop, except for the rattling sound of dishes and mugs. It is a place where I can completely zone out and get in touch with my imaginative self. The part that is idealistic, imaginary, that likes to daydream. The part of me that is still a kid and runs away from all the problems of today’s world.
As I sit there and slowly drink my coffee, a thought comes to mind. What if…what if I become a professional writer? A silly thought, many would say. Crazy thought. Yet, I like it. I am completely zoned out now, thinking about this possibility. Could I become a writer?
When I was younger I was told, follow your dreams. Do what you enjoy doing. Do what makes you happy. Now, I am told do what brings you money. It will also bring you financial stability, less stress, and happiness, in a way. Torn between those two thoughts, I remain sitting in that small and cozy coffee shop drinking espresso. Imagine. Just imagine. Me? A writer? A crazy thought… or is it?