& FELIX.
felix had always wanted to be one of those aloof authors who typed away in a coffee shop all day, sipping latte after latte while their magnum opus formed itself. he heard an author once say that the best thing a writer can do is write in public–completely give himself up to scrutiny from the outside world while still confidently typing away, allowing nosy strangers to read over his shoulder. the idea sounded almost romantic, in some unidentifiable way, to felix.
unfortunately now he simply found himself staring at a blank google document after typing and retyping the same ten sentences for nearly an hour and a half. at least he was getting a bit of practice people watching—though, no one had particularly caught his eye. when he got up to order a (third) iced macchiato, he found that very comfortable, secluded seat on a sofa in the corner had been taken up, leaving only a seat at a shared table. begrudgingly, he sat and attempted to look as busy and productive as possible.
the voice next to him was first of all female and second of all foreign, in both senses of the word. he would describe it as chipper, maybe, or buoyant, if he so had the opportunity. but what did she want??
“Huh?” he asked.
HONEY hadn’t always been so persistent. As a young girl she was often called quiet and kept mostly to herself. She only really grew out of her shell when she started her own business. It had basically forced her to become a somewhat sociable person, and now she was more than happy to be friendly to another soul.
She withdrew the notepad almost immediately, cheeks turning a bright pink from the slight embarrassment from realising how sudden she had been. ❝ Sorry, I just wanted to know what you thought of my recipe? ❞ She paused for a moment, nervously tapping on the notepad.
❝ I should have asked, sorry about that. ❞
