Espresso

While I'm writing this, there is in the background a gentle buzz of noise. People are chattering, there is an occasional burst of laughter from the table in the corner, the explosion of a grind and hiss from the machine being used by the baristas as they complete the next order for a skinny latte with a caramel shot, or whatever it may be. All the normal sounds and comforting hubbub that comes from sitting in a cafe whilst tapping away at my keypad.

You may think that I am writing in a cafe, as many other writers choose to do. Except I'm not. I'm in the warmth of my own home listening to 'university undertones' from the cafe menu on Coffitivity. As it's pouring with rain outside I really didn't want to leave the comfort of my desk this morning!

Cafe bars are a great place to people watch and many an unsuspecting customer has found his or her way into a short story of my composition. Just why has the otherwise elegantly dressed and perfectly maquillaged old lady sitting by herself have dirt incongruously entrapped under her fingernails? What happened to the brusque workman this morning to put him into such a foul mood that he snapped rudely at the young barista serving his tea? And the smartly suited businessman in the corner working at his laptop in the corner keeps glancing furtively around the room, leaning forward to cover the screen whenever anyone walks by - what is he hiding?

Here is a piece of flash fiction of mine that was published last month on Paragraph Planet. Enjoy!

Do you find writing in cafes a distraction or a source of inspiration?