Saturday, 3 March 2012


Pete thrust himself into the coffee shop, dynamically.
The people in the shop were aware of his presence.
A woman called Christine swooned.
Her cardigan caught on the edge of her chair, and ripped.
Pete thrust forward.
His body, a shark.
The coffee shop, his ocean.
He ordered and rapped his fingers on the counter.
His 3 day stubble, showing a masculine side to his delicate features.
Michael (The Barista), passed Pete his Coffee.
Pete lunged forward and collected it.
He turned to leave the shop, all eyes were on Pete.
A man in his fifties held the door open for him.
Pete thanked him and disappeared into the cold morning.

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