If we were having coffee, you’d be ordering something off-menu, some fancier drink that people don’t normally order, rushed as they are in today’s world. I’d be distracted, scribbling ideas into a little flip-notepad and thumbing through my Twitter feed. I’m a part-time conversationalist, you see. You probably wouldn’t mind because your chatter would be interspersed with your blog checking and email-sending.
I’d tell you how my vision is 20/20 now, and you would come to see the improvement in the way I look around, read tiny print. Did you know, the other day I was on the wrong side of the road to be looking at shop details and could still read the opening hours?
You’d tell me about work, maybe something about your creative process and joke about not quitting your day job. I’d laugh along because I’m exactly the same and sip herbal tea that I ordered because I’ve been trying to do things more healthy and coffee in the afternoon doesn’t aid the sleep process.
You’d suggest a different cafe for next week, because you and I both need the interest of different places and times, and I’d name somewhere that would involve going out of my way.
My phone would buzz as we get ready to go, an email alert I’ve been waiting on. You don’t see the screen, because I’m careful about not letting others see, but it’s news I’ve been waiting on.