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an - sorry if this is shit ive had writers block :/
you sat at your desk with a notebook open in front of you. there were loose papers and photographs strewn across your desk, accompanying the empty page in front of you. you write a column for the local newspaper and normally you could have something down in an hour, but today was different.
you stared harder at the paper, trying to conjure up something, anything to write. you picked up the photos again and almost burned holes into them because of the intensity of which you were looking at them.
after not finding a story in the pictures (for the millionth time) you groaned, laying your head on top of your notebook. you almost fell asleep on top of your papers until you decided to get up and go to the local bar.
you light up a cigarette as you sit atop a bar stool, placing a bag that held your camera and notebook in it. you scanned the room, deciding that even if you couldn't write anything about the bar, you could at least get a few cool photos.
you ordered a drink and took out your camera, snapping some pictures of the smokey bar and it's guests. you felt a presence beside you, but didn't remove the camera from your eye and kept photographing the atmospheric bar.
"so, you come here often?" the person asked.
you giggled at the cliche line and placed your camera down. "only when i can't think of a story."
"a story?" he asks. by now, you'd gotten a good look at the stranger. he was pretty, very pretty. he had wispy brown hair and a kind aura about him.
"i work for the paper." you smiled softly.
"oh, sounds exciting." he grins at you, taking a sip of his drink.
"not really." you chuckle. "i've been quite burnt out recently. i don't know what to write about."
"that's no good." he frowns slightly before sticking his hand out. "my names michael."
"y/n." you respond, shaking his hand.
"so, the papers. you must make quite a lot, then?" he states in a questioning tone.
"i make enough." you shrug. "don't get me wrong, i love my job, but i'd like to do something more exciting, you know?"
"i get you." michael smiles kindly.
"when i was little i always wanted to be an actor." you giggle. "i signed up for all of the school plays and everyone else said i was good. kind of stupid now, but that would be more exciting than a shitty newspaper job."
"i don't think that's stupid at all! i wanted to be an actor when i was young, too. lucky for me i'm in a comedy group."
"really? well i guess that explains your natural charisma." you grin.
"i guess it does." he laughs with you.
"so are you like a stage group or radio or..." you train off towards the end of your sentence.
"we're trying to get a spot on television." he nods.
"ooh, aiming high."
"well, all of us have done some stage work and we've already written and acted of tv so we're just trying to get our own show." michael explains.
"that sounds really fun." you smile. "it sounds like you have really good friends."
"and you don't?"
"why do you think i'm sitting alone in a bar on a tuesday night." you laugh, causing him to laugh with you. "my friends are all proper. they wouldn't be into comedy. they barely like my column."
"wait, what did you say your last name was?” michael asks.
"i didn't, but it's l/n."
"no way! i love what you write! you're hilarious!" he compliments you.
"oh, you flatter me." you giggle.
"hey, you said you wanted to be an actor, so would you want to work with me on the show?" michael proposed. "i've seen your writing and i think it's great, and you have a history of acting."
you glanced down at your camera briefly before looking back at michael. "i'd love to." you grin.
michael smiles widely back at you and proceeds to tell you everything you need to know about the project. after he finishes explaining to you, he turns around to a table at the back and shoots them a thumbs up.
"wait, those are your friends?" you question.
"yeah, they kinda dared me to talk to you." he responded sheepishly.
you just rolled your eyes and smiled. you glanced at the clock hanging on the wall of the bar and gasp.
"look at the time! i have to go." you say, pulling out your notebook and scribbling down your number and address.
you rip the page out of your book and hand it to michael. you hop off of your chair and place a kiss on his cheek.
"i'll see you later." you smile, walking out of the bar.
