Tag Archives: hipster

Take a Kindness…Leave a Kindness

He couldn’t help it – the little red mailbox had the flag up, signifying he had mail. It hadn’t been up when he left the table in his favorite little coffee shop to grab a book from his car, had it? He couldn’t remember. He looked around with curiosity, then took a sip of his mango tea from the heavy blue mug.

The red mailbox had Take a kindness…leave a kindness scribbled in black Sharpie on the door. He opened it and found a small notepad with a happy little robot on it. He flipped through, reading each handwritten thought, until he turned to the final page that said “You never know. Right now someone could be looking your way and thinking That could totally be my soul mate.”

He looked up and saw an adorably cute girl with short blond hair smiling at him. She waved.

Special thanks to my favorite coffee shop, Burlap and Bean, for the inspiration.

Valentine’s Day is For Suckers (And I Guess I’m One of Those Suckers)

“It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Yup.”

I’d never been a fan of Valentine’s Day, honestly. It’s a Hallmark scam. It’s a holiday that is celebrated once a year to show someone you love them when that’s something you should show them a little more often than that. Maybe not so often as daily, but not so rarely as once a year. Also, who wants to do what’s expected of them? I would much rather give someone flowers for no reason and as a surprise; it’s more fun than sending them a dozen roses at work on a day where everyone gets roses at work.

“Am I going to get flowers?”

“I gave you flowers last week. Remember? I surprised you with them.”

“But what about Valentine’s flowers?”

“What, so you can show everyone at work that you got flowers? Lame. You could show them the flowers I get you randomly any other week. Why do you need flowers today?”

We both think quite differently. She enjoys having a caring and loving boyfriend and wants everyone to know about me, about us. It’s cute, honestly.

People are often surprised at how little I care for Valentine’s Day. I’m an obvious hopeless romantic and everyone knows it, especially my girlfriend. And I think that’s why I just can’t get behind the idea of celebrating your love for someone once a year when you could be enjoying it more often.

Her big blue eyes are widened with excitement as we sit on her leather couch and discuss this. I can see anticipation in them . She is sure I wouldn’t have let her down on this holiday of romance.

“So what, just because you want to show off to your single friends that you have a caring and loving boyfriend, I should go all out when you know I’m against everything this day stands for?”

“Yup. And FYI it’s not just for the single friends. It’s for everyone.”

I think about the valentine I made her sitting on the table in the other room, cleverly hidden under today’s paper. A simple one I made on the computer using the design program I work with daily. A picture of me giving the thumbs up. The words, I may hate Valentine’s Day but I don’t hate you in big letters on the inside. The cute but inexpensive earrings I got her, mostly because I felt obliged to get her something she could wear today at work so when people asked she could show them.

“So what, you expect me to believe you did nothing in anticipation of today?”

I think of the full breakfast I made her while she was still asleep in bed, simmering on a low flame in the kitchen, her favorite: French Toast with blueberries. A fresh coffee brewing.

“You know how I don’t love this day.”

“But you’re a romantic.”

And yes, I think of the delivery man bringing her flowers at work, even though I think it’s a terribly common idea. Her favorite flowers, no less.

I smile at her as she expectantly waits for me to produce some kind of gift. She hands me a package, carefully and artfully wrapped in the comics section of the newspaper.

“I know how you don’t like this day, and how you think it’s a scam to sell heart covered things, so I used the comics.”

I open it and it’s a beautiful writing journal with my name etched on the front.

“I know you would want something useful, not fabricated to make Hallmark more money. So I decided on this.”

She knows me well.

“And I also know you got me stuff. I can smell French Toast, and coffee, and I know you probably made me a card, and you got me something. So come on, out with it!” Her smile is almost cocky, and this whole moment reminds me how much I love her.

She knows me too well.

“It’s somewhere in this room, right now you’re cold.”

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY

Dust

Image by Danielle Suzanne Photography.

“You’re going to miss me, right?”

She finally said it. Susie had been wondering if Tine would ever actually verbalize it, or if she would continue to keep her feelings bottled up.

“I love you Tine. You know that. I’m not going to go off to college and forget you.”

She shifted her weight on the old table in their secret place, an abandoned home on the outskirts of town. Her slight movement brought up a small cloud of dust. She sighed and then coughed a little when she inhaled. They laughed.

“We really should have cleaned this place up when we found it. When was that, eight years ago?”

“At least,” Susie said with a smile. “Right after we became blood sisters.”

Tine’s shoulders drooped a bit.

“I wish I could go away to school. But-“

Susie pushed Tine’s long curly hair behind her ear. “Your mom needs you. Nobody would be around to take care of her. You’re making a huge sacrifice, but it’s one of love.”

Tine tried to look her in the eye but only made it up to the blue and white stripes of her shirt. “I’m afraid I’ll resent her. I’ll keep seeing your facebook statuses, and everyone else’s and I’ll be able to see every single little thing about living away at school that I’m missing. I’ll see it but never experience it.”

Susie didn’t know what to say to her. What could she say? She noticed the handprints they kept leaving in the dusty surface of the table. The room was littered with their handprints from the past eight years.

“I’m sorry. You’ll visit me though, right? And I’ll make sure you have a whole semester’s worth of fun in a weekend!”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll even get you laid.”

At that Tine started laughing and shoved her in a hard but playful way, forcing Susie to jump off the table and land on her feet.

“Bitch!” she said with a humor-filled tone so Tine would know she was kidding. “Now I’m only going to hook you up with ugly guys!”

Tine started laughing at looked at her watch.

“I should really go. Mom will need to eat soon. And I have some chores.”

Susie walked over to her and took her hand. “You’re my best friend, Tine. And nothing will ever change that.” Tine held on for a brief moment and then made her way to the door.

“Love you.”

She stopped with her hand on the knob and didn’t turn back. “Love you, too.”

“I Wish I Had My Very Own Luck Dragon”

“Huh?” I asked her.

“A luck dragon, it’s-“

“I know what a luck dragon is, silly,” I interrupted.

She smiled. “Of course you do.”

“Would you name him Falcor?”

“No, duh! That’s too obvious. I’d name him…”

“Lucky?” I guess.

“No! That’s not what I was going to say.”

I give her a knowing look and she tries to hide in her oversized gray sweater-hoodie. After a few attempts to disappear under the hood she peeks out. I can tell from her eyes she’s smirking.

“You were totally going to say Lucky, weren’t you.”

“Yup,” she whispers.

“So would you ride him through Fantasia?”

“Who said he’s a he?”

“You just did. You called him a he. He’s a he.”

She thinks about it and shoves me a little. “Wise ass.”

“So what would you do with your luck dragon not-named-Lucky?”

She pokes her head out of the hood, more like the turtle in Neverending Story than a luck dragon. “First I’d scratch him behind the ear. They love that. Then we’d go for a ride and I’d see the city from above.”

“Well you better wear a coat. It’s only 20 degrees out.”

“Of course.”

“Where would you keep him?”

“You don’t keep a luck dragon, silly. He’s your friend. He’d be free to fly. Experience. Explore. Conquer. But he’d still show up whenever I need him most.”

“Really?”

“It’s just what luck dragons do. You know this.”

“I do.”

“You’re just messing with me.”

“Yup. I can totally see why you would want a luck dragon.”

“It’s not to skip out on tolls.”

“I know.”

“Or avoid traffic.”

“Or red lights. I know.”

“It’s just about the magic. That childhood tendency to fall in love with films.”

She sighs and pulls the sweater a little tighter.

“Come on. Let’s go get you some ice cream.”

Inspired by the most amazing post on Indyink here.

 

Footprints in the Snow

“I’m coming to Canada on a school trip. I’ll be staying right near you. I checked.”

“What?” she asked, a surprised look on her face that he could see via Skype all the way from Philadelphia.

“My professor is organizing a trip for next month for our geology club. He has some crazy notion that there’s a group of kimberlites that might have formed diamonds in them so he wants to abuse our club to become rich.”

She shifted in her seat and he could see she was uncomfortable. Either that or nervous, he couldn’t tell.

“Aren’t you excited? We’ve been online friends for two years now. Here’s our chance to finally meet.”

She thought back to that conversation as she sat in one of her favorite spots a month later. She’d come across the old cabin doing a nature shoot for her Digital Photography course and noticed the dilapidated hunting cabin that was falling apart from disuse. It was cold out and the recent snow made it stand out in the woods; she doubted anyone had set foot in the building in decades. From inside she could see enough of the snow through the giant cracks that had formed between the logs, and while a draft did float through the building the aged walls still kept some of the cold out.

Today was much like that first day she found the building. A fresh snow accompanied a cold day, and she was so nervous about meeting him that she didn’t even think to bring a coat. In her hands she held the best gift she’d ever received from a boy. Last Christmas he bought her the small porcelain carousel, inspired by a trip she’d taken over the previous summer photographing vintage carousels across the country. They reminded her of her father before he passed, and somehow the photographs all seemed to capture that, which she always thought helped her win the contest that helped her attain her first gallery show in the city.

She was to meet him in one hour in a café near campus, and even though they had Skyped for hours every week, he still insisted she bring the small toy so he would recognize her. She had romantic notions which were leading her to such nerves that she needed to collect herself in the cabin, the place she often found herself in moments of doubt, nervousness or deep thought. This one was all three.

She walked to the window, the most comfortable place to sit, and brushed the ledge off with her hands so she wouldn’t get her favorite flower print leggings dirty, just in case. She had no idea where their meeting, or date, was it a date? would lead. She’d fallen for him over the past two years of constant texts, calls, IMs, and Skype dates but never had the desire or nerve to tell him. Why bother? He’d never been a real person she could touch before. All the boys she shunned, all the dates she subconsciously sabotaged were because of him. She hadn’t even kissed anyone in over a year, which was right around the time she realized her feelings. Even though she knew she would never meet him.

But now he was coming.

She turned the little carousel over in her hands, listening to the subtle jingle of the parts inside that would play music if she wound it. They sounded so far away, but she knew she could just twist the knob and they would echo through the cabin at a high decibel.

She looked at her watch. Forty-five minutes until he would be sitting in her favorite coffee shop, the one she’d talked about often and even Skyped with him in so he could see it. She wanted to show him everything she loved, and there was only one place he hadn’t heard of, and this was it.

Maybe she would bring him, show him the hideaway she visited for the big decisions. But then he might notice the fresh footprints and put the clues together, somehow realizing that she loved him. He might say “Were you here today?” and she couldn’t lie to him. She would have to admit it. And he would look into her eyes and ask “What was the big decision you had to make?” and she would blush and smile and he would take her in his arms and she would feel him for the first time after years of wishing and hoping and their lips would meet for the first time in her favorite spot and she would share it with him and maybe, just maybe, he would fall in love with her in that moment.

She would bring him here. They would get tea in little to go containers, and she would show him to her favorite place and hope he noticed her footprints in the snow.

Photographs by Danielle Suzanne Photography. Check out her website or her Flickr.

The Harry Potter Midnight Show

“Oh shoot!” she said from the other room. I looked up from my laptop.

“What’s up?”

“The Harry Potter midnight show is sold out.”

I was a bit surprised.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course! I wanted to go!”

She’s so silly.

“Have you even looked at the fridge lately? I know I do most of the cooking but you must go in there sometimes, at least for the milk to put on your cereal.”

“Why?”

“Duh I bought the tickets last week.”

“You DID?”

She ran to the kitchen first, made a funny little squeak and then came in and hugged me rather violently.

“You’re the BEST! I can’t believe you did that for me!”

“Who said the other ticket was for you? There’s this hot busty girl who moved in across the street…”

She smacked me on the arm.

“Ouch! Now I really am taking her!”

“Oh haha.”

I put my arm around her and pulled her onto the couch with me.

“I didn’t buy it to be nice. I want to go.”

“You do?”

“Sure! Have you ever been to a midnight show? It’s so much fun.”

“I know! It’s so exciting to see it before anyone else! Well, besides the people in there with you. But you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, true, but that’s not why I go.”

She pulled away looked at me with a note of skepticism. “Then why?”

“I love seeing the people dress up. Did you know I once saw a three-hundred pound bald man dressed as Harry Potter? I swear. Even had the lightning bolt scar.”

“For real?”

I nodded. “It’s cute when the little kids dress up, but that’s just insane. I can’t wait to see what people do for the movie. It’ll be fun.”

She looked at me for another moment, kissed me and went back into the other room. I picked my laptop back up, situated it a bit, and turned a page in the copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows I was hiding from her.

Flash Fiction Published!

I’m proud to announce a collection of my stories was published in a lovely publication called The Fifteenth Dame Lisbet Throckmorton Anthology:


Click the image to order the book on Amazon. It was an honor to be selected with such beautiful stories and talented writers.

My collection are a bunch of short flash fiction pieces that take place in a coffee shop. There are two sections, Despair and Hope, some of the stories continuing from the Despair section to the Hope section. I’m really excited! Here are a few example flashes:

She removes her hood, as directed.  He wants to see her eyes as she ends it.  She sighs and takes a sip of tea.  He spins his mug of coffee on the saucer, noticing the tiny cracks in the glaze.

~

From above, all that could be seen was two people calmly reading.

From below, all that could be seen was a serious, ongoing foot war.

~

It was their first date, blind at that, and conversation was fairly smooth.  But he knew it would all work out because as she ate her giant marshmallow square, she broke a piece off, rolled it into a bite-sized, mouth-appropriate ball in the palms of her hands, and carefully regarded it between her finger and thumb before popping it into her mouth.

~

She loved sipping the hot rooibos tea but regretted her decision to sit inside on such a nice, clear night.  She looked out the window with an air of regret, but lacked the initiative to move.

 

Vintage Kermit

“When did our bookshelf become all Rainbow Connection?”

She looked up from her copy of Dave Egger’s You Shall Know Our Velocity and shifted her weight in her favorite reading spot, the moon chair they’d bought at Urban a few years before.

“I found it in my parents’ attic! Can you believe it? Really brings me back.”

He picked up the vintage Kermit and made it wave at her. She smiled.

Kermit’s hand got stuck on his sweater and he had to pull it off. “What the…he has Velcro on his hands!”

“And feet!” she added. “Neat huh? He used to hang from my doorknob as a kid. He guarded it so monsters wouldn’t get me.”

He laughed and started propping the doll on the shelf with his back blocking her view.

“Don’t make him do anything perverted!”

After a quick dirty look, he went back to work. “Come on, I have the utmost respect for Muppets.”

She relaxed a bit in the chair. “You don’t understand, Kermit was my favorite. My dad gave him to me before he…left. I cried more tears into that toy than anything else I own. My dad used to sing Muppet songs to me. The show theme song or Mahna-Mahna when I was down, Rainbow Connection before bed.”

He turned and joined her in the chair for a hug.

“Thanks.”

“Check him out!” he said with a huge smile, clearly proud of himself.

She looked over to see Kermit sitting with his legs crossed and his hands folded on his lap.

“I love it.”

Heart-shaped Leaf

ⓒLynn Wiles Photography. Click on the image for her photography blog.

Her soft hand was in mine, MINE! My hand, covered in black ink from my long day of work. I still couldn’t get over that she was my girlfriend. She must have been reading my mind because she lifted my hand and inspected it.

“Look at all that ink. Don’t you ever wash your hands at work?”

I probably blushed a bit, but guys don’t blush so I won’t admit it.

“I can’t take the time to wash my hands every time ink splatters on them! The book would never get done.”

“I know hun, I’m just teasing you. I love your work.”

She pulled me to the right and into Central Park.

“Let’s walk through the park. It’s Fall…the leaves look beautiful.”

I let her pull me in the direction of the picturesque foliage.

“It’s almost like the trees are on fire! Look at that one!” she said as she tugged me yet again as if my arm were a leash.

“Oh my God! Look at that!” she gasped and pointed at a tiny leaf that looked oddly like a heart. “Do you have your camera?”

“Nope, but I have something better!” I said as I pulled a mini sketchpad and Sharpie from my pocket. Her smile forced me into a smile as well as she sat on a nearby bench, crossed her legs and pulled the end of her plaid dress over her knees. I watched for another moment as she started pulling on the curls of her long brown hair. She caught me looking and smiled.

“Get drawing, Picasso.”

“Picasso wouldn’t – never mind,” I responded. She crinkled her nose and I got to work drawing the leaf. It turned out pretty good, I thought. She ran over after I put the cap back on the Sharpie.

“Can I see?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

I grinned. “You can see it on our anniversary.”

“But that’s a few months away!”

“Guess you’ll have to stick around awhile then, huh,” I said with a smirk.

Special thanks to Lynn Wiles for allowing me to use her photograph.

Paris Seen in Four Days

“Oh my..” she said from the back of the cluttered vintage store. He tried to see her over stacks of antiquated books but could only see her jet black hair, forehead and bright blue eyes as they widened in excitement.

“What did you find?”

“The perfect travel guide.” Her hand reached over the stacks with a small pamphlet-sized booklet that was probably once a deep red but had, over the decades, faded into a pinkish color. He took the small book carefully and looked at the cover.

“Paris Seen in Four Days” he read aloud. “How old is this?”

“I was too excited to look!” she whispered. Now it was her turn to see his brownish eyes widen.

“Wow the map in here is beautiful. I would feel horrible traipsing around Paris with such a work of art.”

She sighed. “I agree. But it’s so magnificent, we could use it to see the city the way people did back then. Is there a year?”

He paused and with care turned the first few pages. “I don’t see any. But it’s probably almost a hundred years, give or take. How old is the metro?”

“The first was in 1900, but the majority of construction would have been in 1920,” she said with an immediateness that made him smile at her obsession.

“Well then it’s not quite one hundred years old then, it has a metro map.”

She suddenly went from a pair of eyes over the books to just the top of her head, he assumed she’d been standing on her toes.

“I think it would be so magical to roam the streets and metro with something like this rather than a modern travel guide.”

“I dunno…what if half this stuff is gone? Or streets changed names?”

“Meet me around the bookcase,” she said as her head bobbed and disappeared around the corner. He followed her instructions. Her eyes still shone bright when they met up.

“Please?” she said with multiple blinks.

“How can I resist?” he asked her as she did a little cheer and then hugged him.