Chapter Text
I walked in and sat in my usual place, at my usual time, staring at the cup of coffee in front of me. I had a nodding acquaintance with a number of the regulars but, fortunately, none of them ever wanted to chat. It was six in the morning. It made sense since they were probably still waking up.
This was my quiet time, a chance for me to be alone, lost in my own thoughts. I usually spent my mornings in here ever since I escaped about five months ago. Thankfully, they haven’t found me yet.
Sipping from my black coffee, I noticed the man settle himself into his customary spot in the corner of the room. Much to my displeasure, I took in all of my surroundings, along with every single movement and detail. It was pure extinct at this point. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, was tall and lean, blond hair and bleached blue eyes hidden underneath his baseball cap he happened to be wearing today, along with his usual morning workout get-up. As usual he took out a red sketchbook from his little gym bag and started drawing. He paused occasionally to take a sip of his coffee, black I observed, but he never looked up. I wondered what he was drawing.
***
As soon as I came in I noticed her in her usual place. I half-heartedly smiled in her direction but she didn’t see me. I went and got my coffee and set my gym bag down in my usual spot. I pulled out my sketchbook and started to doodle. She just sat there, staring into her coffee cup, oblivious of the world around her. She was wearing her usual black sweatshirt with jeans and combat. Her (h/c) hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. I wondered what it was that she sat there thinking about.
***
I wondered if I should get myself a note-book or a sketchbook. Maybe writing my thoughts down might somehow help me, maybe become some way to help the pain go away. Maybe it would help me forget about what had happened the last ten, long years. If I did, I would have to make sure that it was not a red notebook.
***
Whenever she was there I found it increasingly difficult to draw. That sad face and those doleful eyes, seemed to drain me of any creative ideas. I don't what it was, but there was this feeling in my chest, pity, sadness? It just didn't seem appropriate when she was all alone and with the far off look in her eyes. She looked... lost. It struck me that the only solution would be to draw things I noticed about her. I decided to get a new sketchbook devoted solely to this mysteriously lost-looking stranger.
***
The next day when I came in for a coffee, I tentatively took out my new blue notebook and began writing. Once I started I couldn’t stop, the last ten years of my life spilling out along with my deepest fears, worst nightmares, and Thomas. It just flowed onto the page. I was so busy I never noticed him come in.
***
I sat in my usual place. I had so much that I wanted to draw and jot down. I was so eager to get started that I hadn’t even looked up to see if she was in. I took out my new blue sketchbook and started drawing the woman from the coffee shop. But I was cut short when I heard the loud-
BANG!!!