The centrum of the Simrishamn city was crowded today. I was hoping on getting some me time and not be troubled by the terrible music that filled the arena. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the Swedish singer’s moaning, but I had to get away. The jazz was slowly killing my buzz.
You may think that I am total moron for saying that, but I believe that a writer’s volcano of creativity erupts depending upon the setting and music. Sadly, my taste in music is fickle and I can never decide what I like the most.
I was determined to find the quietest coffee-shop that did not have an adjoining bar. Yes, that is what happens when you decide to drink coffee in Europe. There is always that bar that comes along with the deal. I am not a huge fan of bars or anything remotely related to it.
My legs were begging me to find that perfect spot in this amazingly cozy corner to start my new novel. Maybe God had different plans for me today and I had to cramp myself in the common table with an extremely hot guy one side and a potentially lesbian female on the other. Not that I am against gayness or anything, I am an uncomfortable person and I always love to stay away from people, generally.
I opened my brand new copy of the Maze Runner and smiled at the mere perfection of it. I rummaged through my knapsack to find my pouch and as I yanked the zip open, I found two blue gel pens and a broken pencil. Neither of which could be used to inscribe my name and the date of purchase on the front page. It was a trying day, indeed.