Getting outside of yourself to get into the story

Just for a few hours I wasn’t me. I invented a new name, smiled as the barista called it and enjoyed my newfound persona. Then I sat in the corner of the shop and watched others come and go.

I washed my coffee down with the atmosphere, drank in the patron’s demeanors and shamelessly imbibed in the conversations of those waiting in line for their preferred caffeinated fix.

Hurried mother’s with their misplaced teenagers standing beside them battled silently next to each other, mannerisms revealing more than words ever could. I observed. Young men fresh from the gym, bags slung over the shoulders and held in place by sweaty hands, exchanged war stories of reps and trainers. I took note. A grandfatherly figure held a small boy against his chest while his much younger looking wife ordered their food with a side of chocolate milk and a cookie. Granddad seemed so happy and proud. Grandmum was soaked in some bitter brew long before she ordered one. I saved this for later.

In public forums, we have the right to observe, record and use. Of course, me being me, I would change the names to protect the innocent. In these cases, I had no names. And I didn’t need to take notes either –mental ones are enough.

“Why did I do this? Am I some crazy stalker?” Continue reading

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