The Truth Is Often Stranger Than Fiction

YAY! I found my prescription cough medicine from the last time I was coughing up a lung, last February. But on to the blog...

So I was saying I wanted to post one of my writings and my knitting projects so here you go. Don't shoot me.

I sit in a Starbucks. I am surrounded by the faces of strangers and the combining sounds of conversations. There is a man, who I assume is a teacher. He talks about 20 minute classes and figuring out what work to give in such a short time. As another table a man, probably in his 30s, works intently on his laptop I see a man pouring milk in his coffee and a woman carrying out two trays of lattes. The baristas are shouting orders for their waiting customers. The coffee grinds, then the blender. I think its too cold for frappuccinos. the amount of people has grown, the conversation less audible and more blended. I can no longer hear the music coming from the speakers above. I take the last sip of my peppermint mocha.

And now my scarves.

This one will be mine