My phone makes a ribbiting sound, the sound I have it to tell me when I have new messages, and I pick it up to check. I have a new text message from someone listed in my phone as ‘You’. I raise a brow at this and open the message.
YOU: Hey, CJ! You said you were going to meet me at the cafe with stories about weddings. Did you forget?
I frown at my phone and switch back to the new episode of Archer I was watching as I finish my cereal. I figure I’ll respond after this episode.
After four episodes, I remember that I had something I needed to do and I check my phone. I notice there is a new message.
YOU: Hello? Hey, are we still meeting at the cafe today?
I chew on my Strawberry Flavor Filled Frosted Toaster Pastry as I read your message, then type a response.
ME: Yeah, I’m on my way now. It’s at-
I check the clock at the bottom edge of my computer screen.
ME: Yeah, I’m on my way now. It’s at 3, right?
It’s 2 now. If I recall correctly, we agreed to meet at noon, but I was busy with breakfast, second breakfast, and cartoons. Also, I’m still in my pajamas. My phone ribbits.
YOU: I think we said noon.
ME: I thought it was 3? I have it scheduled as 3 in my book.
YOU: No worries. Just get here when you can.
ME: Already on my way.
I set my phone down and finish this episode before I go get dressed and head out. I show up a few minutes after 3. You wave when you see me and I come sit at your table. We exchange greetings and I order a tea and muffin from the waiter.
“So, how’s the writing going?” You ask.
“Fabulous!” I say. “I’ve written several chapters of this project I’ve been working on, and written a few more of something I started last week.”
“And- what about the wedding writing? How’s that?”
“The what now?” I ask.
“The stories about weddings. Last time we met you said you had stories about weird stuff that happens at weddings. You said you’d have a story about,” you check your notes. “An evil DJ and a table on fire.”
“Oh! Right, yeah. I was… I haven’t written that yet.”
“But you have a deadline. The promoter guy wanted it in a week.”
“Well, yeah,” I say, “But with the magic of writing that was just yesterday.”
You scrunch up your nose and frown at me.
“I don’t know what that means,” you say.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “The readers will get it.”
“I AM the reader!” you say.
I stare at you for several seconds.
“Good point,” I say. “Just forget about it.”
You shake your head at me.
“Alright,” You says after a moment. “Just share the story now.”
“Like,” I glance about the busy cafe at all the people. “Like here and now?”
“Oh,” I frown. “I would love to but… I’m already over 500 words.”
You stare at me incredulously. “What?”
“I’m already over 500 words… from the time I received your text to now is, uh… 538 words.”
“So why don’t you just start here instead? Why start so far back?”
“I wanted to make jokes about Laziness and Poptarts. Did you know they’re a specific brand and not the actual products? They’re called Toaster Pastr-”
“Oh my God,” You sigh and put your head in your hands. “How can you have nothing done yet when your deadline is coming up?”
“I’m a writer,” I say with a shrug as though that explains everything.
“When can you have a story?”
I shrug. “Later?”
“Can you be more specific?”
You stare at me. I stare at you. The waiter brings me my tea and muffin. He stares at us. I stare at him. He sets the muffin down and backs away slowly.
“Alright, I’ll write it now,” I mutter and eat my muffin.
“Not even any damn options,” you grumble.
To Be Continued