She sits alone in the loft of a coffee house called The Rookery. Concentrating on her job at hand, she is oblivious to the group of like-aged twenty-somethings opposite her, gazing at their laptops. Comfortably situated on a worn, green fabric sofa beneath two four-paned windows that provide light for her writing, the focused woman pays no attention to the gable ceiling with cedar rafters, the repurposed barn siding, or the reclaimed wood beams.

     An orange thermos, a coffee cup, a plate with a half-finished donut, and a balled-up napkin rest within arm’s reach on the coffee table. A black backpack, placed at her feet on the wood-planked floor, waits for the pale-skinned female’s departure with the blonde ponytail and teal-colored scrunchy. 

     Dressed in blue Vans, a green and black plaid wool shirt over a black V-neck, and a brown and black plaid throw over her lap and black leggings, she looks up, contemplating. The long fingers of her right-hand place the end of her light-blue pen to her lips. Using an iPad as a writing surface, she makes a few more strokes, lifts a 3×5 fold-over card with a cover of a pastoral scene, and inserts it into an envelope. She is diligently writing thank you cards, and so, it continues.

     The cell phone by her left thigh lights up. Grabbing it, she texts a reply with fast thumb strokes and returns to her task. Pensive and deliberate, she authors another card, always serious about her content. She is done.

     Placing her correspondence and neatly folded blanket into the backpack, she rises, buses her dishes to an awaiting tub, and descends the steps, perhaps excited at the prospect of returning to her tidy apartment and her loving cat.

All Rights Reserved. © Steve Gerkin | No reprints without permission.