High heels clacking on the wood floor. Shuffling of a newspaper. A mix of words and conversations faded in the background. Screeching bathroom door, would be great to record and use in a horror movie. The scary noise doesn’t fit the relaxed vibe of the cafe. Steam screams into the milk, Coffee grounds measured with big clanks on the counter. Some guy playing dominos is talking way too loud, getting dirty looks from people working on their laptops. Mitchell is having a hard time focusing on his calculus homework and is tapping his pencil to a beat, probably composing an orchestral piece in his head. He is a musical genius like that. Someone just lost at Jenga on the other side of the cafe, I assume by the crashing noise and people cheering. |
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Mitchell nervously picks at his fingernails. There is a lot more white on his nails showing he hasn’t been as stressed lately, but something is bothering him.
The coffee shop logo, painted on, doesn’t have clean lines. Brown is mixed with the green and though it looks fine from across the cafe, it looks messy up close. Sweet Caroline is playing in the background. Several people join in on the “Buh buh buuh”s, then go back to whatever they were working on. There is a guy that is the exact stereotype of what I don’t like. Wearing knock-off jordans, joggers, a flat billed cap, gauges and an adidas hoodie. He and his friends are making vape clouds outside in the rain. Ew.
Stuck
The sky is gray and dull, but Mitchell (who prefers to be called the Ginger Ninja due to his fiery hair and quirky personality) still thinks it’s a perfect day for climbing. “BYE MOM I’M GOING TO PLAY” He shouts as he runs out of the house, leaving the door open behind him. “Don’t hurt yourself! Stay on this side of the street!” His mother, Karen, yells after him. “Yeah, sure!” He calls back, not having really paid attention to what she said.He makes a dash for his favorite tree, and quickly makes his way up, having climbed it dozens of times before. He sits down at his hiding spot near the top of the tree and grabs one of his candy bars he stashed there. He feels so alone and free up here, like a bird. He sometimes closes his eyes and imagines himself jumping off the branch and flying. After almost an hour up in the tree, with a sore bum and empty candy wrappers stuffed in his pockets, he decides to make his way down. Only a few branches down from his hiding spot, his foot slipped and he fell backwards off the branch. His trousers got stuck on the next branch down and, with a terrible wedgie, Mitch realized his pants caught his fall. At first he was relieved, but then he realized that he was stuck. He wiggled and tried to get off, but he was stuck hanging from a branch by the seat of his pants. He didn’t want to have his mom help him, but he was stuck. He hung his head in shame and called out to his mom. “MOM! MOM HELP I’M STUCK IN THE TREE! MOM!” He yelled as loud as he could. His mother ran out, a look of panic on her face, when she saw that he wasn’t hurt, just stuck she burst out laughing. “How the heck did you manage to get like that?” she asked him, trying to stop her laughter. “I slipped.” He mumbled back, embarrassed. “Okay, well let me get the ladder. And the camera.” “No don’t take a picture!” He whined, but it was too late, she was walking back into the house. She took a picture, got him down, cleaned him up, put bandaids on his scratches and made him some mac and cheese for dinner. He was embarrassed, but glad he had his mom to get him down. That night he dreamed about flying.
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AuthorI'm Emma. This is for a class. ArchivesCategories |