It was early, to say the least. Too early to be out of bed, let alone fully dressed and sitting in one of the old worn booths in the Golden Spoon diner. But, there she was, a sweater pulled snug around her small frame, a piping hot cup of coffee in front of her as she peered in the direction of the establishment’s front door, clearly waiting for company. “Unbelievable.” Phoebe muttered to herself, shaking her head as she finally pulled out the notebook she’d been writing in for weeks now from her purse. It seemed she went through tablets a few times a month, scribbling down her every thought, whether it be work related, a mental note on paper, or just some way to waste time.
This morning, it was the ladder, black ink of her pen dragging across the paper slowly, neat letters written against blue lines, something that usually didn’t last very long, the rest of the tablet filled with sloppy cursive and quick jottings. Bringing the cup of coffee to her lips, she absently continued onto another page, halted only be the sound of the chair across from her moving. Peeking up through her lashes, her shoulders sank into a comfortable form, mug meeting the table gently. “I don’t think you’ve ever once been on time, y’know?” She pointed out, but her tone was more tired than irritated. “I figured I’d wait ‘til you got here to order you a coffee or anything, in case it went cold.” She teased, closing the notepad and tucking it away, turning her attention to her company now. “Why’d we decide to do this so early again?”
