For a man with chronic illness, holding down a part-time job whilst attending University, and trying to get a job at the library, and trying to write a book, all at the same time... it was rather easy to become worn out. Which was exactly what Remus was, presently. It showed in his face. Not that it didn't always; he had one of those faces which looked permanently exhausted, which wasn't entirely false. He spent far too much of his time feeling tired, but he was inherently a hard worker. And the prospect of dropping any of his undertaken tasks was simply out of the question.
Caffeine was something of a godsend, in such circumstances. He wasn't strictly supposed to take it with his medication, but given it had never done him any damage in the past, and the level of caffeine in a mocha was so low, he found himself frankly, my dear, not giving a damn. He had his laptop open in front of him, but he was struggling to take in any of the text on the Word document he had open. He so rarely had time to work on his book, between assignments for the University and marking papers for the school, but today he'd had a free hour, and he intended to make full use of it. Except... fate was never quite on Remus' side.
He'd hit a phenomenal writer's block.
Staring blankly at the screen, he brought his mocha up to his lips to sip it, idly. It didn't help that the coffee shop was beginning to become busy and noisy, with the daily influx of workers on their lunch-breaks stopping by for precisely the same reason Remus had; to refuel, and focus on something other than work. It was necessary, he thought, to have this time. He pushed himself far too hard, but he was not so stupid as to never allow himself wind-down time. It was just a pity that his mind was refusing to cooperate. He'd re-written the last sentence fourteen times.
Sighing heavily, be pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing between his eyes and closing them. Scratching idly at one of the bandages that covered the rashes on his lower arms. He was only vaguely aware that the seat opposite his, at his little two-person table, was now one of the only vacant seats in the small, stuffy cafe.
