To preface this, I really haven't fleshed out my concept for this story yet, so don't get your hopes up about me finishing it anytime soon. Perhaps I'll get around to making a plot line, but for now it is what it is I'm afraid.
You look at the time.
8:57 am.
You've been waiting for a while with your hot chocolate sitting patiently next to you. You aren't waiting for someone- well you are but they don't know you're waiting for them. See, there's this girl who comes into the local coffee shop which is the only place around open early enough for you equipped with free WI-FI. You started coming here for the WI-FI of course because the internet is more important to you than your left arm. She's about your height, short, light blonde hair, and she's always got a book with her. She looks so sophisticated and smart. You almost spilled your cup on your computer once while you were admiring her sophisticated cleavage thanks to a low cut sweater she had worn that day. You pray to whatever cat gods in the sky might exist that she wears that shirt again soon. You go back to blogging.
This blog you run, it mostly consists of very elegant pictures of your precious cat, with a bit of ranting about your day to day life. You have yet to mention the coffee shop girl though. Maybe it's about time.
'There's this coffee place I always go to for the internet, right? So I started seeing this girl come in at the same time every day...' You go on for a while, telling your story, when the door opens. You look at the time on your computer. 9:00 am exactly. You look up. There she is, in all her glory, her black headband perched perfectly in her hair, and her brown leather coat fit nicely to her figure. Your heart does a flip or something you think. You always feel super excited when she comes into the store. You imagine that's probably what makes you think you've got a massive lesbian crush on her. She always orders the same drink. You're still not sure how to pronounce it because gosh all the names for the drinks they have you swear are complete bullshit. She goes to sit in her same seat. The only reason you know her name is cause they call it when her drink is ready.
"Medium mocha frapachino for Rose!"
What the fuck is a frapachino? You don't fucking know but it sounds complicated and fancy. Rose. It's totally cheesy but you'd totally give her roses if you were dating. Is it weird to think about dating a girl you may or may not be stalking? You think it's kinda creepy, but technically you just happen to be at the shop at the same time she does. It's just a very fortunate coincidence. You look back at your computer screen. You never did finish that post you were writing. You're almost done so you decide to finish it up and post it. Maybe some of your followers can offer some better advice than Jaspers can. Even though he is a smart guy, he has only been able to give you tips through meowing, and you have yet to become a master of that language. Yet.
You realise you spent too much time finishing up your post because she's on her phone and she looks like she might be almost done with her drink. You told yourself today would be the day to finally talk to her. You're at least going to compliment her on her jacket. That's how you're going to start the conversation. You wrote that on your blog. Her jacket is really nice. She's putting it on! No! If you got up now, your plan couldn't work. You mentally reprimand yourself for being such a fucking pussy. Not the cat kind, the kind that can't just ask a pretty girl if she wants to sit and drink coffee with you. Even though you only order hot chocolate.
She's about to leave. You swear she looked over at you.
Probably just your imagination.