finding courage

Your ass man, your ass.

¿ - for a random thought

She left her fingers detached from the tattered journal. Her curiosity was about to drive someone else’s privacy into the shitter, a stranger who’s secrets were bound by leather and a latch. Why did they have to make it so simple for her to invade? Then her thoughts started running.

Was it on purpose? Am I supposed to see what’s in this book? If I find something I don’t wanna see, then what? This could be another ploy. It’s dangerous. On the other hand, if it’s just a silly journal than I have nothing to lose. I might even find the next Lang Leav, but that likely isn’t true. What are the chances of discovery and adventure— little to none.

✍ - for a letter

The napkin was held between her two fingers and an open palm, folded and crisp. She adjusted the strap of her bag dangling from her shoulder as she walked past his table, slipping the note onto the surface and sending a empty glance over her shoulder to the man. The note read as follows:

So you drink your coffee black,                                            bitter. 

                         My mother always said that drinks define people better than clothes can.

                  You’re scaring people away, you know.                      Look around yourself for a moment.             More strangers staring then approaching, no?

                                                             Maybe you need your stress reduced, whatever                                                             induces that to begin with. But that can’t be done                                                             in a single day, can it? You need a better facade.                                                            Maybe a smile will do. People need to see                                                            something glistening, but I don’t.

                                                                                 I suggest tea.

After all, a man once said, “A cup of tea would restore my normality.” 

웃 - for a hug

Each of her cautious, light steps skipped beyond the cracks along the sidewalk as they came to her. It was one of the things she did to pass time, occupying herself to liven the mundane daily commute. 

She looked up and to her left, seeing a crowd of disoriented girls on the other side of the street, all searching in every direction for something she had yet to find. “Not my issue.” With fingers tucked in the warmth of her pockets, she continued forth, registering familiar faces; those vendors she passed daily and the loitering children at the distant corner store, but not the figure at the alley who seemed to be just like the other girls— expect more like searching for an escape route. 

The foreign face quickly came to recognition, a face of a friend’s band mate, though a name didn’t come to mind. She was forced to decide between leaving him to a potential mob, or attempting to save him by risking his very career. 

She decided on the latter.

/she took a last a gulp of it and occupied the space beside her, crossing one leg over; So when did you start filming ? Is the drama interesting? /she smiled;

It's hard to differentiate when it's actually a mixture of the two /she walked in out of nowhere and poured herself a glass of water;

I could be both.