Lone writer

The air was moist and damp, it smelt of mud. The tip tap of the rain droplets hitting umbrellas would please the ears that listened. Even though it was raining there was still a high suffix of people walking around, some walked for leisure, some for walking, some to just enjoy the rain, but most walked with a purpose. 

Among these people an individual walked, their leather shoes, unfit for walking in the rain and more suited for business meetings tapped across the puddles, formed by the rain. They wore a black blazer covered in tiny droplets, which had slipped past the fiendishly large all-white umbrella. As a bold fashion choice, the person adorned a black bowler hat. An unironed shirt, unbuttoned at the top two buttons, covered their torso. An all-white pant was their choice of wear, tightened around their waist by a black leather belt. An expensive-looking Black satchel was carried by them.

The person entered a restaurant, closed their umbrella, and sat in a brightly lit corner. A waiter approached the person, a playful smile on her face, she took out her pen and notepad and looked at them again.

“Morning Singh, what’s your order today?”

Singh’s glasses reflected the woman’s image, he stole a glance at the ‘Today Special’ section on the menu, discovering nothing interesting on it, he replied to the waitress.

“Morning Shruti, I will just have my usual coffee, also could you tell Aarav to add a little bit less sugar and more coffee in it, please? New deadline you know.” 

His voice contained a bit of irritation in the last part, not going unnoticed by Shruti.

“Fair enough, I will inform Aarav about your complaint. Your publisher pushes you. 

Too much doesn't he?”

“What can I tell you, he is a fucking cunt aint he?”

At this moment a family turned around and gave Singh a dirty look, But Singh didn't notice.

After a bit more of a small talk, mostly about the crap weather they had been experiencing for the past few days Shruti gave her farewell and walked to the counter to give in his order.

After Shrutis left, Singh grabbed his satchel and took his laptop ou from it, opening it he connected to the restaurant's wifi, and he checked his mail. Soon his coffee arrived. Strong, bitter, and borderline undrinkable. Just like he needed.

He soon entered his zone and started to focus on his work. He was supposed to finish his news article in 1 week. His article was about how the tensions between Greater Deutschland and the Empire of France have been worsening for the past 15 years, and how this could lead to an all-out conflict between these two giants, how it would effect Africa. 

He wrote and wrote, he wrote his brains out, he expanded his view, he talked about the stock market, he talked about how it affects Asia, namely India, and he wrote his soul out. He looked around, The clouds still showed their fury outside, inside, the restaurant was now relatively empty, compared to when he entered there were only ⅕th of the people in. On the table laid 4 empty cups of coffee, the last one-half full. He lifted and strained his neck to look for any employee, and in the corner of his eye spotted Shruti cleaning up some broken-up glass. 

‘When did a glass drop?’ thought to himself did he, but not for long as he didn't consider it an important enough thought and called Shruti.

While Shruti walked over to him he stared at his Laptop, he gazed at the time in the corner of the screen and saw it was half past three. He had been there for over 5 hours.

He sighed and looked up back at Shruti.

“Hey… could you please take these cups? They are just cluttering up”

“Oh yea, definitely. Um… one piece of advice, You shouldnt drink that much coffee. Its not good for your health.”

“Yes, yes I get it, but I have to meet my report's deadline, or else that asshole will cut my payment.”

Shruti stared at him for a bit, her big brown eyes looked into his tired black ones. Suddenly she took a long and deep sigh and arranged all the cups on her carrying plate.

“Fine. Just remember to take rests and care of yourselves.”

Singh simply sighed in reply. And started to gather his belongings. Shruti left him and took all the cups with her, as for the half-filled cup singh just gulped it in one go. He closed his laptop, walked to the front counter and paid for his order. Which came about to 1000inr (11.50$) as he walked outside he opened his umbrella and walked towards his ‘home’. The rain kept falling over the world, and his legs kept walking.

As he walked, he took out a small notepad and a pencil and started to write something.

Oh my love for her is like pain

Sad, miserable and hurting

For she doesn't even know my name

For she doesn't even know my face

For her, I am just a fleeting face

A passage from a book she read years ago

A road she walked over days ago