Conversations Over Coffee || Hook & Roger
Roger tapped his pen against the cover of a two-seat table, sitting under the dim light of the Turbo Cafe. It was a late afternoon with the weekend nearing, which was the best time for inspiration, if any were to come. It was apparent that he'd had no such luck, pulling his pen back to his chest to stare at the nearly blank sheet of paper. He was oblivious to the ink dripping on his shirt, going to take a sip of the coffee cup. There was no jolt of ideas, and the man was in the same rut he'd been some the beginning. His shoulders sank as he set the cup down, and he set coffee down to rest his chin in the same hand again.
It just didn't feel right. Perhaps it was the background music ringing in his ears, or he was just too antsy to even know where to start. He leaned his chin out of his palm after a long while, just beginning to hum to himself as he started scribbling on the paper. He was unaware of how he'd soon come into contact from his homeland, let alone the fact he'd hear him muttering Sinatra. "That's life..."