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Description

This is pathetic. What is he even doing here? Arthur just drove for twenty minutes to get to this place, only to sit with his laptop and read. He could be in his apartment right now. It would've saved him the gas money.

Is he here to socialize? He hasn't said a word to anyone other than the bistro, to tell him how he likes his Earl Grey. So he has no real reason to be here. He should just go home.

But that's the thing. Arthur doesn't want to go home. It's just--it's too quiet. When he found himself purposefully clanking the pots and pans together while attempting to make eggs, just for the noise, he knew he had to get the hell out of there. So he stays at the café, reading something about astrology (he stopped caring about what he was reading a half hour ago) and drinking tea.
He was on his fourth cup when an outline stood in front of his table and stayed there. His eyes flicked up and they met with those of a woman's. Opened wide, she looked scared, almost. They were surrounded with smudged eyeliner; Arthur couldn't tell if she had wanted it that way or had forgotten it was there and just messed it up.
"Hey, uh, can I sit here?" She said it very fast, pointing to the table. Arthur's eyebrows twitched in confusion, and he looked around the shop.
It was packed. The only empty seat was the one at his table, directly across from him. He looked at her for a second, then focused back on his computer screen. "Sure."
The woman dragged out the chair and dropped down onto it haphazardly, legs, hanging over the side, sipping from her cup. Whatever it was, it was overpoweringly sweet; he could smell it from his seat. Arthur didn't exactly stare at her, he just...looked to her now and again. She was tapping her heel in a sort of manic rhythm, making her knee bounce constantly. Eyes flicking around, she bit at her nails, already down to the quick.
She looked absolutely wired. Arthur thought this must not be her first cup of coffee that day. The woman checked her watch about every six seconds, sliding her tongue over her chapped lips and looking to the door.
Suddenly moving about, she turned so she was facing him straight on. Looking at something intently behind him, her elbows were planted on the table. Both hands fastened to her drink, her arms slowly slid across the table as she leaned forward, apparently really getting into whatever she was looking at. She was even screwing up her face. Her elbows kept sliding forward until they were at the sides of Arthur's computer. She made no effort to move away from Arthur, nope, just stayed there.
This was undoubtedly the strangest person he'd ever seen.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he worked up the courage to say something to her. Maybe comment on the weird-as-hell position she was in. Ask why she seemed so jumpy. It was sort of ridiculous, how long he waited to open his mouth. It was the better part of forty-five minutes later (she was still in the same spot, drink empty now) when he sucked in a breath.
The woman pushed away her chair and abruptly stood up.
Goddammit.
She looked at her watch one last time. "Motherfucker," he heard her mutter. She started away, but looked back over her shoulder after a few steps. Arthur looked up, and their eyes met.
The woman grinned at him, all messy and crooked. "Thanks for the elbow room," she called. And before he could reply, she was striding out the door and throwing herself into her car. Starting it, along with the revving of the engine, was music coming from the speakers. Guitars snarled and a man was screaming. Arthur barely made out what he was saying, show me your bones, over and over, before she recklessly pulled out of the lot and onto the road.
She was, theoretically, unappealing. That smile she shot at him, her lip bleeding in a couple places from biting it so much. The tangled knots in her hair. Everything about her seemed messy, loose.
But even so, Arthur found himself staring out the window long after she had left.

Description

This is pathetic. What is he even doing here? Arthur just drove for twenty minutes to get to this place, only to sit with his laptop and read. He could be in his apartment right now. It would've saved him the gas money.

Is he here to socialize? He hasn't said a word to anyone other than the bistro, to tell him how he likes his Earl Grey. So he has no real reason to be here. He should just go home.

But that's the thing. Arthur doesn't want to go home. It's just--it's too quiet. When he found himself purposefully clanking the pots and pans together while attempting to make eggs, just for the noise, he knew he had to get the hell out of there. So he stays at the café, reading something about astrology (he stopped caring about what he was reading a half hour ago) and drinking tea.
He was on his fourth cup when an outline stood in front of his table and stayed there. His eyes flicked up and they met with those of a woman's. Opened wide, she looked scared, almost. They were surrounded with smudged eyeliner; Arthur couldn't tell if she had wanted it that way or had forgotten it was there and just messed it up.
"Hey, uh, can I sit here?" She said it very fast, pointing to the table. Arthur's eyebrows twitched in confusion, and he looked around the shop.
It was packed. The only empty seat was the one at his table, directly across from him. He looked at her for a second, then focused back on his computer screen. "Sure."
The woman dragged out the chair and dropped down onto it haphazardly, legs, hanging over the side, sipping from her cup. Whatever it was, it was overpoweringly sweet; he could smell it from his seat. Arthur didn't exactly stare at her, he just...looked to her now and again. She was tapping her heel in a sort of manic rhythm, making her knee bounce constantly. Eyes flicking around, she bit at her nails, already down to the quick.
She looked absolutely wired. Arthur thought this must not be her first cup of coffee that day. The woman checked her watch about every six seconds, sliding her tongue over her chapped lips and looking to the door.
Suddenly moving about, she turned so she was facing him straight on. Looking at something intently behind him, her elbows were planted on the table. Both hands fastened to her drink, her arms slowly slid across the table as she leaned forward, apparently really getting into whatever she was looking at. She was even screwing up her face. Her elbows kept sliding forward until they were at the sides of Arthur's computer. She made no effort to move away from Arthur, nope, just stayed there.
This was undoubtedly the strangest person he'd ever seen.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he worked up the courage to say something to her. Maybe comment on the weird-as-hell position she was in. Ask why she seemed so jumpy. It was sort of ridiculous, how long he waited to open his mouth. It was the better part of forty-five minutes later (she was still in the same spot, drink empty now) when he sucked in a breath.
The woman pushed away her chair and abruptly stood up.
Goddammit.
She looked at her watch one last time. "Motherfucker," he heard her mutter. She started away, but looked back over her shoulder after a few steps. Arthur looked up, and their eyes met.
The woman grinned at him, all messy and crooked. "Thanks for the elbow room," she called. And before he could reply, she was striding out the door and throwing herself into her car. Starting it, along with the revving of the engine, was music coming from the speakers. Guitars snarled and a man was screaming. Arthur barely made out what he was saying, show me your bones, over and over, before she recklessly pulled out of the lot and onto the road.
She was, theoretically, unappealing. That smile she shot at him, her lip bleeding in a couple places from biting it so much. The tangled knots in her hair. Everything about her seemed messy, loose.
But even so, Arthur found himself staring out the window long after she had left.