Quill & Claw/Pen & Paw

Monroe looked hard to his right, as if the hockey game on the slim television had sudden gained interest. But there was merely a commercial, and his rapid head turn seemed out of place. He had hoped no one would noticed. "It helps if you actually have your computer on, dude," he heard from behind himself. His heart felt like it had gone over the first ledge of a rollercoaster. He smiled without thinking. "Excuse me, huh?" He mentioend as his head turned back, "and thanks for getting that for me." He moved his chin towards the half eaten scone and the cold mocha. He did not have to lock eyes with the barista working solo this lone Monday afternoon. He knew exactly what the young man was wearing. A wool cap, even in summer, kept back a blond and red mohawk, that just made him look thinner. He knew that the barista, named Nick, was also wearing an extra small beater underneath his blue work polo and apron. It pulled the edges of his shape aside and made hi...

"A bone fide coffeehouse," Bert looked around and upwards, as if the place was bigger then he expected. Ronald did not take his eyes off his friend. Friend? He had no better word for their relationship. They had been apart for a few years, and bumming into each other was more chance then force. A moment in the dairy aisle, Bert buying more milk because his mother was too sick to do so, and Ronald getting a quick snack. He had, at first wanted to walk away. His last time with Bert did not go well. They were in their senior year at Dornie High School and Bert had insisted on the two of them spending the night alone and getting drunk. Ronald really did not mind. But he had his family together; his sister was in town; his grandparents had just arrived. The late hour helped, but the feeling that he needed to be elsewhere was pervasive. Ronnie figured if he drank enough, the stresses of having of having so many family members together in honor of him might be reduced. Alas, since B...

Bert had a love for meatloaf, especially his mother's This night was no different. He could practically smell the wafting BBQ as he pulled up into the alleyway behind the house. His mother had told him that it was for dinner. Like himself, she was a glutton for schedules and menus did not escape her. She knew what she wanted to make before the days of the week began. Bert's job at the factory also granted him straight lines in his schedule. His mother could always predict when he would arrive. This was a comfort for both of them. Bert had a bad day, but that cleared out quickly when he got into the house. Mother had cleaned and readied everything, a visitor would half expect to see birthday baloons and brightly wrapped gifts heaved onto the counter when they entered. Bert also paused. A clean house was to be expected. Since her retirement, his mother had kept herself busy by entering sweepstakes, cooking and, most of all cleaning. But this work was exceptional. Recent spots f...