"A friend in need's a friend indeed, a friend with weed is better..."
2003-07-14 @ 2:56 a.m.
Cold, he thought, as he walked into the tiny diner. He shivered for a bit as he walked over to be seated in a booth. It had been snowing that night.
Coffee, he thought to himself. Anything to keep warm for now. The red vinyl seat of the booth was icy, he shivered again, this time with more intensity.
"Waitress", he called, in a husky voice. She walked over, short skirt riding up with each step. It was hard to conceive why anyone would wear anything so skimpy on a day such as this.
"Yes", she replied, as she reached his booth. She bent over, propped her elbows on the table, popped her gum, and stared at him. "Coffee, please. Black.", he said.
Her blond hair, untied, fell across her face. Her roots were growing in, she wasn't a natural blond. "Sure", she said, and continued to stare.
The top bottons on her blouse were undone, he could see down it, could see her bra. He realized he had been staring, and quickly averted his eyes to her nametag, Dylan.
"Be right back", she said, almost seductively, and walked back to the counter.
Dylan, he thought, odd name for a girl.
He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. He could see his breath in front of him. Rubbing his hands together for warmth, he sang to himself, quietly. "A friend in need's a friend indeed..."
He noticed her walking back with his order. Her short skirt, again, riding up. She set a cup in front of him, licked her lips, and said "Here you are."
"Thanks", he replied, and greedily reached for the cup and took a sip.
"Excuse me, Miss", he called, eyes on the cup, not realizing she was still there. "This isn't coffee, it's tea", he said, when he finally saw her.
"I know", she said, and sat opposite him. He looked at her in disbelief, and she began to sing quietly, just loud enough for him to hear. "A friend who'll tease is better..."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Recently, I've been in an experimental phase with my writing. I used to delve deeply into small details, and give long, drawn-out explanations for things. However, for now I'd like to experiment with minimalism. I want the reader to imagine, and fill in for the parts I don't give much detail to. Details like what the diner looks like, and what the two people in the story look like, I purposely left out. I only mentioned small, unimportant things, for example, her hair color, the color of the seat he was in, etc.
I, for one, like how the story turned out. Maybe I'm just saying this because I wrote it, but, I like it. As you can see, I'm a Placebo fan, and I played a bit with their lyrics to "Pure Morning" in the story.
Listening to: "Pure Morning" by Placebo
everything © Claudia (2003-2008)