Hi!
This is the beginning of a story I've made up. I'm a completely novice writer and I would LOVE to develop my writing skills. As of now, I have NO idea how good or bad my writing is, and being in the dark about it is killing me.
I would really appreciate some critiques if possible! You can be thorough and harsh or just short and honest. Anything will do to point me in the right direction!
I may consider continuing the story if there is enough interest (if it's not too crap). But my plan is to gain some feedback that I can take into account.
Much love!
Naomi
Chapter 1
It was noon. The lunch rush hit and sizable group of students spilled into the cafe, looking for the warm taste of midday sustenance. Jason was already inside. He'd been there for a few hours sitting alone at a corner table, absorbed by his laptop computer. More students gathered and Jason absently hunched himself over slightly, as if to shield from the swelling mass of his peers.
He didn't notice when the pretty young black girl entered. She was wearing a short black vest coat on top of a cherry red sweater. Her slim jeans covered all but the base of her boots. The girl sidestepped the long line in front of the cash register and walked directly into the open seating area. She took a brief look around before spotting Jason in the corner. She smiled to herself and went to meet him.
Jason didn't notice her until she'd reached the table and plopped down right in front of him. He looked up from his computer. Her presence was a surprise to him but his face didn't show it.
"Naomi," he said. "What are you doing here?"
She gave him a wry grin. "It's 12:00 pm, Jason. Middle of the day. It's bright and sunny outside, and you haven't slept yet have you?"
"Excellent assessment. But what exactly are you doing here?"
"Living," she said. "Breathing, loving. How long have you been awake?"
"I don't know. Since yesterday?"
"Well you look terrible, obviously."
"Thanks. How did you even know I was here?"
Naomi leaned back comfortably on her chair and crossed her arms. "In any given restaurant, room, store, bathroom, you're always going to be hiding in a back corner, like an oversized collection of dust or something. Always hunched over and wearing your shaggy coat. And definitely burrowed in the corner. I've seen you panic in hallways."
"Nice," said Jason. "And you knew that I was in this particular restaurant because…?"
"Because you weren't in the library, you weren't in your apartment, you weren't in the computer lab, you have no classes on your schedule for today, and you weren't at the Chipotle on the north side of campus. So I figured you'd be in here, at a little corner table, on your laptop."
"Wow."
Naomi surveyed the restaurant. Customers were filling in around the tables. They let their bulky backpacks rest on the floor beside them and they sat down to dismantle their trays loaded with food. An appetizing aroma permeated in the air.
"What do they even serve here?" Naomi said. "Just bread or something?"
Jason looked back up at her. "You've never been to Panera?"
"I can get bread at a grocery store."
"Well they have soup and sandwiches and stuff. Salads and smoothies."
"White people food."
"Yes."
"That's why you come here."
"I come here for the Wi-Fi," Jason said. "I never order anything besides a smoothie. Everything else is overpriced. And I sit in the corner so I don't take up any of the large tables that are meant for large groups, if you haven't noticed."
Naomi instantly pointed at an empty table towards the center of the restaurant.
"I see a small table for two," she said. "Right in the middle over there."
"That was just moved there, separated from the group sitting next to it."
"Sure it was, Jay. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
"I don't sleep at night."
"As we've established."
Jason sighed. "Yes, we have," he said. "But we still haven't established why you're here. And I can't help but consider that to be the more important matter."
Naomi put her right arm on the table and pulled back her sweater sleeve to expose her bare brown skin. Jason could see her blood veins distinctly carved out on the surface of her forearm. They were rigid, and deep black. They added a rough texture, as if she'd punctured her skin and traced her veins with ink. All around the veins was a spread of spindly lines that made it look like her arm had fine cracks in it.
"Christ, Naomi," Jason said.