The great thing about living in a big city is the coffee shops. Coffee shops every corner. Quiet coffee shops every corner. I stepped out of the apartment complex and literally walked 20 steps before I was to the coffee shop where I usually did my writing. The owners greeted me politely, and asked me if I would get my usual iced caramel macchiato, to which I nodded. I sat comfortably in a nook by the window, and I pulled out my laptop and notes.

I barely began working and I was already pulling my hair in frustration. There really wasn’t much you could do with these dramas. Nothing original, anyway. Everyone had such incredibly high expectations of this pairing, of the writing, of me. Trust me, after writing for 3 other fairly successful dramas, the normality gets too much to stand anymore. It is always about a boy and a girl, usually sickly, who fall in love before one of them dies. The worst part is that everybody loves them. They’re crap and we have my boss and a bunch of teenage girls, along with their middle aged mothers, going crazy over the “cute” moments, and the “great” storyline. Uncultured society sickens me.

 And I’m one of the biggest enforcers.

That’s why I want to write novels. But apparently, no one cares to read about searches for individuality or fear of nostalgia; both of those ideas have been turned down. I want to write something tasteful, something that won’t make me cringe.

The worker brought me my coffee, and asked if there was anything else she could get me. I shook my head and paid for the coffee, sipping it and letting the caffeine deal with the headache that I was getting looking at the blank screen. As if it couldn’t get any worse, my phone vibrated and I looked down to see it only being the Wicked Witch of the West herself.

“What?” I answered, not fully recovered from my boss’ harshness this morning.

“Well, that isn’t a very nice way to greet the person who signs your paycheck” she said in a stupid, smug tone.

“I’m sorry” I said, rubbing my temples and fighting the urge to throw my phone in my coffee. “What is it?” I sighed.

“Well, I was just checking to see if you had started on the script yet.” She said, nonchalantly, as if it was so easy to write nonsense long enough to last an hour.

“I’m working on it” I lied, seeing as though the only thing I had done was open a new document.

“Great. Will you finish in about an hour? I need you to do some location scouting after you finish.”

“Uh, it’s not that easy to write a script, you know.” I said, letting the annoyance be fully visible in my voice. “Plus, that’s not even my job. Didn’t you just hire a new one?”

“Well, yeah, but she hasn’t shown up yet. Her plane got delayed and we don’t know when she’ll arrive. So we’re using you, my little slave.” She liked to call me that to piss me off, and it always worked.

“Plane? Is she foreign?” I really had no interest in finding out, I just knew she’d want to brag about the fabulous scout that she had found on her own, and how superior her skills were to everyone. That’s the kind of ty person Lina was.

“No, she’s from here. But she worked in Japan for the last 4 years. She’s a pretty big deal, if I do say so myself.” Of course she would say so herself. No one but herself praised her for anything.

“Okay. Great. I need to finish this script now. Bye.” I rushed and hung up, groaning in relief that her annoying voice was no longer filling my head.

Silence. Finally, silence. There was nothing but the peaceful noise of the background music and the wonderful smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the room. I had just begun to let the shallow words fill the page when the disturbance of a girl loudly talking, practically screaming, into a phone walked into the coffee shop. As if that wasn’t enough, she had a thousand bags with her that she just let drop to the floor, causing a commotion.

“Yeah, I have to go. I’m getting coffee. I’ll be out of here soon though, I’ll just get it to go.” I scoffed. Didn’t she know that this wasn’t some tacky chain shop, and that you couldn’t get things to go? My loud  snort caused her to shoot daggers at me, to which I smiled sweetly at. It was her turn to snort now, as she said goodbye to whatever annoying friend was on the phone and hung up.

“Do you work here?” she called out to me after about 30 seconds of silence. I rolled my eyes and signaled my laptop and notes.

“No. I don’t. But I come here often enough to know that this isn’t starbucks, and you can’t get coffee to go.”

She completely ignored my comment and continued complaining. “Then where the hell are the workers?”

“Look lady” I said, letting the headache get to me. “I don’t know what your problem is, but you really shouldn’t come into a coffee shop making all this noise and commotion when people are trying to work. If you’re in a hurry, go somewhere else!” I snapped at her and slammed my laptop shut. She stared at me incredulously, picked up her bags, and left with a huff.

“People in Japan weren’t this rude.” She mumbled under her breath as she left.

I sighed in peace before I evaluated what she said.

Japan. Bags. Hurry…

If there is a God, he’d make it so this was a terrible coincidence. My phone rang and I answered it without looking.

“Great news! The scout is here and she’s willing to have you tag along! Be careful though, she just had a bit of a quarrel with some guy in a local coffee shop.” I hung up, again without looking.

Please.

Just a terrible, horrible coincidence.

~ 

Another relatively short chapter, but I don't know, I'm just in a writing mood today. 

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