forever feels like home ; } open. Feb 28, 2009 11:17:03 GMT 10
Post by kurt on Feb 28, 2009 11:17:03 GMT 10
the first to say no,
time; late afternoon.
What had he accomplished today? So far, nothing too extraordinary. He'd peed about four times in the past hour from way too much coffee. He'd typed his name out on a word document on that shiny little laptop Daddy'd sent him a year back. Oh, Ian, what are we going to do with you?
He was pushing the afternoon onto the brink of evening, the tall, rather lanky senior sat at the little table in the corner of the café—eyebrows drawn together in a rather drab fashion. He sighed, taking the thick square rimmed glasses off, and rose. The little laptop computer had been sitting at that table for a few hours now; there wasn’t too much to show for it. A blank Microsoft word program and three empty cups of coffee didn’t make progress obvious now did it? Oh, and did I mention it looked like Ian was going on a fourth cup? Need I go on? His iPod was more than half drained of its batteries, and he was running out of spare change—but all in a day’s work, correct? It was always fun scrambling to finish off an assignment at the last minute. Ian rose, running hands over the front of his black jeans. The colour wasn’t exactly a good choice for this sort of day. He’d be covered in lint in a matter of minutes after sliding back into his car. Anywho. It wasn’t an unusual thing for Beetles to be bustling around this time of the day; and the line was quite bothersome. He slid into the back- intending to wait for yet another cup of coffee and another two dollars he would no longer possess. He didn’t quite know why he insisted on Beetles whenever he had a project to finish off before the next day of classes, it wasn’t like there was anything too spectacular about the little joint.
Sure, it had coffee on hand, but what else did it have to offer? While in line he pondered the thought, as he often did, a young male without much to do to bide his time. When it came to means of concentration the place had nothing to offer. However, if you were looking for insight you could often find someone who was fluent in whatever you were trying to do. In times of need, this could be quite helpful. The faster Internet connection was nothing to mention, that was just a given. Ian’s eyes scanned over the groups of people conversing or standing in line. It was easy to overlook someone he might have known, and he was looking for some sort of a familiar face. The line seemed to be taking an awful long time, but that was no surprise. The college students often worked there and none of them were hesitant when it came to flirting with the customers. But hey, it beat Match.com right? If you came to Beetles, you had to be prepared for a little wait. This joint was not the place to go if you were on the run, or anything of the sort. Stick to drive thru shit if you wanted speed. He hadn’t had anything else planned for the day other than finishing off that paper. So, not like the timing really mattered all too much.
When it came down to it, Ian probably went to the place for a little social interaction and to get out of the dorm. Sadly said, but true. Eventually he’d made his way to the halfway up the line mark—and he stood up on tip toe to see who exactly was holding this Popsicle joint up. He didn't normally mind all that much, but his already nonexistent muse was wearing off with each passing second. Whomever had been up there had finally paid their dues, and he managed to get up to the front of the line. Just another black coffee, and another wasted two dollars like noted before. Ah, the trials and tribulations of finishing an article. "This is nonsense." Couldn't have worded it better myself. Ian slowly headed on back to his little table and his precious little laptop. He plopped the coffee back on the table and his butt back on the chair. What a routine. He slid the glasses back on the rim of his nose, and proceeded to furrow those eyebrows once more.