Coffee Shop Writing Novels & Stories

- I texted and just like he was waiting for me to text, he replied almost immediately. -“I’m proud of you!”- FLASH BACK Ten years Ago, City Falls. “One cup of Coffee mocha and two cups of black coffee, and double whipped cream,” I wiped the small beads of sweat forming on my forehead as I took the order and proceeded to making it quickly, please remind me again what made me think that this life was an easy life.

“Oh, you mean one of them?” She nearly choked. Inside Caffé Noire, the air was scented with Madagascar vanilla and overachievers. People were typing on MacBook Pros, drinking espresso out of double-walled crystal cups, pretending to be authors, startup CEOs, or tortured philosophers. The chandeliers sparkled. The baristas wore silk aprons. The coffee? Started at half a cent and came with emotional damage. We sat at a corner velvet booth near the window. I snapped my fingers once—Mateo, my favorite barista, appeared instantly.

Two fine porcelain cups of steaming coffee, its rich aroma curling through the room. "Were you thinking I'd take you to a rundown restaurant with lousy patrons and snotty children?" Leaning back into his seat, Creed raised a brow, his right index finger casually tapping his gold watch. "Uhm... coffee in a small coffee shop or the cafeteria." I swallowed, pretending I wasn't tempted by the waffles staring back at me. "Wouldn't that be more convincing? People will actually see us together there." "If you say so, let's go."