[Original] New York, New York
Title: New York, New York
Genre: Fluff
The cafe is well furnished, the kind that one would associate exorbitant prices with, but she knows better. This place is very student-friendly. She asks for her usual seat by the window upon entering, and moments later she half-collapses into the overstuffed armchair in the corner. A waitress--ginger, she notes amusedly, suddenly reminded of her best friend from high school who always had a thing for ginger girls--takes her order with a smile before walking away. She pulls her laptop from her bag and leans back into the seat, sighing.
Outside, downtown NYC flashes past despite the January chills. 4 months in the big city and it was only recently that she began to understand what her best friend loved about the place.
"I like how the city makes you feel so very, very small," Chris had once said. "It makes you feel insignificant, alone, but at the same time it makes you feel like you're part of something big, you know?"
"You're not making sense."
"Like, you could disappear and no one would make a fuss about it, but you could come back and join everyone anytime you want. It's exciting. And it makes your mistakes and choices feel less weighted, y'know?"
She doesn't know if she agrees yet, but she was beginning to see the beauty of it. The night before she had gone to a pub and she doesn't remember leaving the place at all, but somehow this morning she found herself in her own bed, with a note from the landlady saying that two kind fellas had brought her back to the apartment complex because the found an envelope in her handbag with her address on it.
Upon checking her handbag and finding everything intact, she let go of a long breath. Strange city indeed. She had gone drinking because of all the stress and loneliness that the big city was giving her but it was also the life of the city as a whole that kept her going, and random acts of kindness from people that broke the loneliness of being a mere individual in this urban jungle.
She continues to people watch, perhaps searching for her saviors from the previous night, her term paper forgotten. New York, New York. Always rushing by. No one notices her staring out of the cafe's window--alone and lost, like many other young people who had come here with a pocket full of dreams and nothing else.
The waitress' voice brings her back to life, she thanks her with a smile. On normal days she would have bemoaned the masks that the waiters put on to earn some extra tips, but today, she lets herself believe that the smile is sincere. She wraps her fingers around the teacup, warming her stiff fingers before getting to her paper.
She looks around the cafe for the first time after walking in, and nothing out of the ordinary jumps out at her. The usual mix of people occupied the place--grey-haired men in suits, young college students like herself, a couple of old ladies having scones and tea... and one last guy sitting in the corner opposite hers, guitar leaning against the table.
She lets her eyes linger for a moment longer than necessary. Dark, disheveled hair, matching dark eyes, rather out of place fashion, a pencil in hand. He has his gaze directed towards the windows and she catches a glint of silver on his ear.
Wow, she thinks, might not be a bad day after all. She lowers her gaze to her laptop, a smile tugging at her lips now. She looks up every now and then from her work, only to catch him either looking out of the window again, or scribbling things down on whatever papers he had in front of him, his hair in his eyes.
She takes an immediate liking to his profile. Underneath the seemingly distracted and carefree face he had on when looking out of the window, she catches a sign of seriousness. Maybe it was the sharpness of his jaw.
Her face warms at the thought. She shakes her head lightly and returns to work.
When she next looks up, his seat has been taken by a young mother and her son. She looks out of the door frantically but the city has already swallowed him into its masses.
New York, New York. Always rushing by. Always greedy.
She sinks back into her seat, resigned. It is going to take a miracle to find him again in the sea of 8 million souls in this city. She takes a long sip of tea to raise her spirits, but it fails.
"Excuse me miss?"
"Yeah? Oh, did I ask for the bill?"
"No miss," the ginger-haired waitress from just now says. "I have here a note for you from the guy who was sitting at that--" she points to the table now occupied by the young mother. "--table. Did you notice him?"
"Ye--No, not really."
The ginger-haired waitress almost laughs.
"But um, here. He asked me to pass this to you."
The waitress presses a folded piece of paper into her hand.
"Oh, thank you."
"Also, he paid for your tea."
She blinks. Way to pick up a girl. Buy her tea.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
After the waitress leaves, she opens the note--which appears to be hastily scribbled on the back of a scoresheet--and almost laughs at the message.
"Hey I just met you
And this is crazy
But I'm playing at Cory's (tonight)
So come watch me maybe?"
Below that, in the same artistically messy scrawl, was the address of the livehouse 2 blocks from her apartment complex. The note was signed with a simple "Jon".
Fate.
Big city.
Small world.
She chuckles as she dials Chris' number.
Genre: Fluff
The cafe is well furnished, the kind that one would associate exorbitant prices with, but she knows better. This place is very student-friendly. She asks for her usual seat by the window upon entering, and moments later she half-collapses into the overstuffed armchair in the corner. A waitress--ginger, she notes amusedly, suddenly reminded of her best friend from high school who always had a thing for ginger girls--takes her order with a smile before walking away. She pulls her laptop from her bag and leans back into the seat, sighing.
Outside, downtown NYC flashes past despite the January chills. 4 months in the big city and it was only recently that she began to understand what her best friend loved about the place.
"I like how the city makes you feel so very, very small," Chris had once said. "It makes you feel insignificant, alone, but at the same time it makes you feel like you're part of something big, you know?"
"You're not making sense."
"Like, you could disappear and no one would make a fuss about it, but you could come back and join everyone anytime you want. It's exciting. And it makes your mistakes and choices feel less weighted, y'know?"
She doesn't know if she agrees yet, but she was beginning to see the beauty of it. The night before she had gone to a pub and she doesn't remember leaving the place at all, but somehow this morning she found herself in her own bed, with a note from the landlady saying that two kind fellas had brought her back to the apartment complex because the found an envelope in her handbag with her address on it.
Upon checking her handbag and finding everything intact, she let go of a long breath. Strange city indeed. She had gone drinking because of all the stress and loneliness that the big city was giving her but it was also the life of the city as a whole that kept her going, and random acts of kindness from people that broke the loneliness of being a mere individual in this urban jungle.
She continues to people watch, perhaps searching for her saviors from the previous night, her term paper forgotten. New York, New York. Always rushing by. No one notices her staring out of the cafe's window--alone and lost, like many other young people who had come here with a pocket full of dreams and nothing else.
The waitress' voice brings her back to life, she thanks her with a smile. On normal days she would have bemoaned the masks that the waiters put on to earn some extra tips, but today, she lets herself believe that the smile is sincere. She wraps her fingers around the teacup, warming her stiff fingers before getting to her paper.
She looks around the cafe for the first time after walking in, and nothing out of the ordinary jumps out at her. The usual mix of people occupied the place--grey-haired men in suits, young college students like herself, a couple of old ladies having scones and tea... and one last guy sitting in the corner opposite hers, guitar leaning against the table.
She lets her eyes linger for a moment longer than necessary. Dark, disheveled hair, matching dark eyes, rather out of place fashion, a pencil in hand. He has his gaze directed towards the windows and she catches a glint of silver on his ear.
Wow, she thinks, might not be a bad day after all. She lowers her gaze to her laptop, a smile tugging at her lips now. She looks up every now and then from her work, only to catch him either looking out of the window again, or scribbling things down on whatever papers he had in front of him, his hair in his eyes.
She takes an immediate liking to his profile. Underneath the seemingly distracted and carefree face he had on when looking out of the window, she catches a sign of seriousness. Maybe it was the sharpness of his jaw.
Her face warms at the thought. She shakes her head lightly and returns to work.
When she next looks up, his seat has been taken by a young mother and her son. She looks out of the door frantically but the city has already swallowed him into its masses.
New York, New York. Always rushing by. Always greedy.
She sinks back into her seat, resigned. It is going to take a miracle to find him again in the sea of 8 million souls in this city. She takes a long sip of tea to raise her spirits, but it fails.
"Excuse me miss?"
"Yeah? Oh, did I ask for the bill?"
"No miss," the ginger-haired waitress from just now says. "I have here a note for you from the guy who was sitting at that--" she points to the table now occupied by the young mother. "--table. Did you notice him?"
"Ye--No, not really."
The ginger-haired waitress almost laughs.
"But um, here. He asked me to pass this to you."
The waitress presses a folded piece of paper into her hand.
"Oh, thank you."
"Also, he paid for your tea."
She blinks. Way to pick up a girl. Buy her tea.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
After the waitress leaves, she opens the note--which appears to be hastily scribbled on the back of a scoresheet--and almost laughs at the message.
"Hey I just met you
And this is crazy
But I'm playing at Cory's (tonight)
So come watch me maybe?"
Below that, in the same artistically messy scrawl, was the address of the livehouse 2 blocks from her apartment complex. The note was signed with a simple "Jon".
Fate.
Big city.
Small world.
She chuckles as she dials Chris' number.