A/N: Ok, I don't know why the beginning of this story is so difficult for me. X P

Chapter 4

It was Saturday afternoon, and I found myself at the Undergrounds again. In the past three weeks, I have spent 17 of those days at the couch by the window. I have spent every one of those 17 days studying for my classes, like any good student would and should; however, once the work was completed, the sketchbook would come out. I couldn't stop doodling and scribbling, which was odd because I haven't touched that thing since junior year of high school. I used to draw every day. It was a stress relief and creative outlet all in one. But then, one day I stopped. I put away my book, and didn't touch it again. But, I couldn't throw it away. Maybe it was the pack-rat in me, but I had to hold onto it. Maybe I would have the urge to draw again. Maybe I would want to look through it. Maybe I would want to watch it collect dust bunnies under my bed. Who knew? I just couldn't abandon it.

So, here I was over a year later picking up my sketchbook again and drawing feverishly. If I kept up my current pace, I would need a new book by the end of the month. This café was a great inspiration. The decor was theatrical with draperies separating areas of the large square space. Candelabras sat on tables and art pieces from the community monthly exhibits were packed on the walls squeezing in-between candle sconces. Electric lamps laid on end tables, and pendant lights hung from rafters concentrating on the ordering and serving counter in the center of the room, and became more sparse towards the walls. The pendants were tricky things. Every other lighting object in the shop was uniform, but the pendants were mix and match. It was as if the owner of the shop went to the clearance bin in the back of the lighting store where every design came in pairs of one. But the mismatch worked. The room looked more eclectic than a muddle of styles, and the lights -- they were gorgeous. The glass shades were brilliant colors and their shapes had wonderful lines – sleek and slender, plump and round, or twisted and asymmetrical. I would catch myself staring at them so much that I finally broke down and made a 'pendant' section of my sketchbook. Pathetic, no?

The décor of this shop evoked creativity. They were just things, but my imagination went into overdrive, especially with characters. Because the heavy draperies reminded me of theatre curtains, they would draw to mind the plays and stories that I knew and loved, and would cause me to imagine new tales. The characters and scenes could be from the Victorian era, the faerie neverworld, the dark gothic otherworld, or maybe the odd sci-fi Egyptian world if the ancient Egyptians lived a modern technology-saturated time. In short, my imagination ran away with me.

I was in one of these drawing frenzies when I felt someone plop on the sofa next to me. He leaned over my notepad, and I looked up. It was Miroku. "Hey doll. Whatcha drawin' this time? Super-atomic robots from Mars?"

I didn't know whether to giggle or be perturbed. I opted for the former. "No, from Neptune. Didn't you hear that it's the new Mars?" I can't believe I was so casual with him. It just came to my head, and I blurted it out. Maybe saying hello to him practically every time I am here has created a kind of familiarity. Either way, the one emotion I did not feel was shyness.

He sighed dramatically. "Hey, you do have a sense of humor!" A laugh came from his throat, and then he continued. "Yeah, well it is difficult to keep up with the super-atomic lifestyle." A moment later, his mood shifted and the grin on his face evaporated. He sighed again. "I'm so bored. People aren't drinking coffee fast enough. I don't have anything to pick up."

I didn't know what to say. When in doubt, show your empathy for the situation. My face mussed up and I said, "I'm sorry."

"Well, you could be making more of a mess. Or, buying more coffee. Want a mocha?"

"Umm, maybe in a bit. I still have most of my cappuccino left."

"Then I guess I'll just make idle chat with the customers. You know, 'improve the customer satisfaction' and such."

"Ok… Hey, by the way, do you know of any good theaters around here? Like play theaters, not movie theaters. I'm not from around here…"

"Yeah." He pointed to the back of the café. "The Geva theatre, two blocks over there, has the classics like Shakespeare along with the modern stuff like Closer."

"I thought that was a movie…"

"It was a play first. And, the Corner Cabaret on Second Street has smaller shows. Up 'till last week they were playing I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change. I don't know what they are doing now though." Then, his eyebrows mushed together and his jaw dropped as if he was about to sneeze from thinking too hard. "Aw, crap. That reminds me that I forgot to put up the fliers for the campus play today. Mervin is going to be pissed."

"Campus? You go to school?"

"Yeah, I go to the Garland School of the Arts. I'm in a play this semester. Was supposed to head up advertising, and apparently am doing a bang-up job. Hey…" He looked down at my backpack. He always sees me with it, pulling out books and folders. "You go to school, right?" I nodded. "Where do you go?"

When asked a question, the only thing I could do was answer, no matter how personal. Would he know where I lived from this information? Maybe. Would he stalk me? Who knows. But I had to answer. It was what was expected from a question. "Briggate University."

"Excellent. You wouldn't mind posting a couple of fliers around there, would you? It'd only take a second. And, for the trouble, the next drink is on me." Before I could answer, a stack of bright yellow paper was in my hand. I nodded. "Thanks doll."

…………………………