#prosestarters

Harriet hated gossip but worst of all she hated that she was so close to the centre of the gossip and she couldn’t tell anyone. No one knew she was mourning the man, that she felt grief and anger and sadness. And no one knew her biggest secret of all. Her son.

Lost in her own thoughts, her dark eyes stared out of the window. The warm mug held between her hands, she’d nearly forgotten where she was before a sound pulled her from her daze. “Hmmm, shit,” she said, quickly realising that the sound had been the crashing of her coffee cup hitting the floor. “I totally spaced there. I have no idea what happened.”

"I think I'm being paranoid that there's ghosts in my store. That or I am misplacing things. It's probably just me being forgetful." Alex gave a small laugh but he had to admit, he was feeling a little on edge. He seemed like the sort of guy to haunt you. He laughed out loud to himself. "Ignore me. Ignore me. How are you?"

Piper’s dark eyes glanced around the coffee shop. The town often gave her moments of deja vu. She remembered sitting here in her teens. Being back in Prose was still an odd feeling, not much had changed and yet... her father was gone. He wasn’t going to walk in with his judgemental comments and high opinions. That was a strange feeling too. She let out a sigh. It had been a long day of teaching old literature and an afternoon of marking papers. Some teenagers could write well... and some not so much. Though she spent a lot of time with them making comments about her surname. She was a Whitley. As she picked up her coffee, she sighed once more, realising the cup was empty. She looked to the person beside her. “How many is too many coffees in one day?”