It started with a simple urge. An urge for chocolate sprinkles and sachets of brown sugar. I reached for the conduit of my sweet delight. A stirrer; long, thin, wooden and splintered.
As the stirrer reached the top of the jar, I gathered more.
More leverage than I could ever have bargained for. Slightly dilapidated, feet on the ground, head in the clouds. Worn from a night of drinking, dancing and and mild debauchery.
The stirrer catapults with great velocity, entering a spin cycle more akin to a Samsung on its maximum setting. Time slows as I morph from eager sugar tray participator to powerless observer of my own demise.
Then; direct hit! Mid 40s, female, smartly dressed with a rather stern face.
She takes a moment to reflect on the unexpected thwacking of her right cheek. Only to turn, look toward I and I toward her. An awkward moment ensues. Bystanders also pause, sensing my fear.
‘I flipped the stick’ [insert cheeky smile] was my first response. ‘Which might have been responsible for [insert gesturing]’.
Smile. Just smile. Frown. She just frowns.
‘Great shot though, don’t you think’. [another cheeky smile – surely she too will feel the child like amazement that a small and otherwise inanimate object can propel itself such a distance, at such force, and such accuracy.
[long pause]
‘Well, I hope you’re happy’ comes the reply.
[awkward pause]
‘I’m very sorry’ [insert face humbled, head dipped].
Man leaves Starbucks
When someone wrіtes an piece of writing he/she maintains the thought of a user
іn һis/hеｒ mind tһat how a usｅr can be аware of it.
So that’s why this pіece of wгiting is outstdanding.
Thɑnks!