(no subject)
Wow! Here is the beginning of a story my daughter is writing. I believe she has talent!
Chloe - Part One
She sat at in a corner booth in the back of the cafe. She liked corners, almost as much as she disliked having her back to the room. Corners were safe and warm and cozy. They provided the best vantage for people watching. Not that she was a stalker or anything. She just found people of immense interest. If she was a painter, she would choose to paint an old man sitting on a park bench in a red scarf and a wool coat, daydreaming about his dead wife, Martha, with a look of longing and nostalgia on his weather-beaten face, rather than a breath-taking landscape. She had a theory that the memories of a lifetime were wrapped up in the wrinkles and creases on people’s faces as they aged. Only, most people didn’t see the beauty in the elderly. Most people were too caught up in the business of life, in accomplishing their to-do lists and staying ahead of the rat race. They didn’t notice the simple things. Her thoughts were rambling again. She did that a lot….rambling.
She tried to refocus her attention on the Classic English Literature homework in front of her. She picked absently at hole in the left leg of her favorite jeans. They had that faded, broken-in, well-worn look. Combined with the purple and blue striped tee-shirt with the army-green rock star logo on the front and the gray button-up cable sweater, the black loose-knit hat that covered most of her chin-length blonde bob and kept falling over her left eye, and the old pair of chucks, she thought she looked altogether unremarkable. She took a sip of her hot chai latte and winced when she burnt her tongue. She cradled the extra-large cup between her palms and looked out at the barren trees, shaking their bare branches in the wind. She shivered. It looked cold out. A middle-aged woman ran across the parking lot to her car from one of the department stores to the left of the café, holding her hat on her head while she fumbled in her purse for her keys. The wind blew her bags of purchases around, making it more and more difficult for her to find what she was looking for.
Chloe looked back down at her book. She must had read the same paragraph four times now. She listened to the bustle of conversation going on around her. A mother and daughter argued about what to get some family member for Christmas at the table to her right. The sound of soft classical Christmas music played beneath the clatter of cups, the scrape of chair legs, the crying on the toddler on the other side of the café. He wanted to be set free from the restraints that held him to his chair, no longer interested in his juice and cookies. You would think his world was ending. She sighed. If only her greatest challenge was whether or not she could have her blanket and reach the salt shaker when she wanted it. Life would become a lot more complicated, sooner than he might realize. Her life certainly had.
Chloe - Part One
She sat at in a corner booth in the back of the cafe. She liked corners, almost as much as she disliked having her back to the room. Corners were safe and warm and cozy. They provided the best vantage for people watching. Not that she was a stalker or anything. She just found people of immense interest. If she was a painter, she would choose to paint an old man sitting on a park bench in a red scarf and a wool coat, daydreaming about his dead wife, Martha, with a look of longing and nostalgia on his weather-beaten face, rather than a breath-taking landscape. She had a theory that the memories of a lifetime were wrapped up in the wrinkles and creases on people’s faces as they aged. Only, most people didn’t see the beauty in the elderly. Most people were too caught up in the business of life, in accomplishing their to-do lists and staying ahead of the rat race. They didn’t notice the simple things. Her thoughts were rambling again. She did that a lot….rambling.
She tried to refocus her attention on the Classic English Literature homework in front of her. She picked absently at hole in the left leg of her favorite jeans. They had that faded, broken-in, well-worn look. Combined with the purple and blue striped tee-shirt with the army-green rock star logo on the front and the gray button-up cable sweater, the black loose-knit hat that covered most of her chin-length blonde bob and kept falling over her left eye, and the old pair of chucks, she thought she looked altogether unremarkable. She took a sip of her hot chai latte and winced when she burnt her tongue. She cradled the extra-large cup between her palms and looked out at the barren trees, shaking their bare branches in the wind. She shivered. It looked cold out. A middle-aged woman ran across the parking lot to her car from one of the department stores to the left of the café, holding her hat on her head while she fumbled in her purse for her keys. The wind blew her bags of purchases around, making it more and more difficult for her to find what she was looking for.
Chloe looked back down at her book. She must had read the same paragraph four times now. She listened to the bustle of conversation going on around her. A mother and daughter argued about what to get some family member for Christmas at the table to her right. The sound of soft classical Christmas music played beneath the clatter of cups, the scrape of chair legs, the crying on the toddler on the other side of the café. He wanted to be set free from the restraints that held him to his chair, no longer interested in his juice and cookies. You would think his world was ending. She sighed. If only her greatest challenge was whether or not she could have her blanket and reach the salt shaker when she wanted it. Life would become a lot more complicated, sooner than he might realize. Her life certainly had.