New rule: Whenever I hear The Flaming Lips’ song, Do You Realize?, I’ll stop and make a note of what’s happening.
I’m at Bauhaus avoiding working on the NaNoWriMo novel. All but two people in the upstairs area are working on laptops. Both are women in their early twenties. One is wearing plastic barrettes in her hair. She’s positioned with her back to the windows. The other has short blonde hair and cat eye glasses, she’s cradling a cup of coffee in her hands and staring blankly ahead of her. There’s one table between them and they’re facing each other. The first girl is drawing in a little black notebook. The second girl just put down her coffee and began reading a small red book with gilt page edges.
While I was rearranging sentences in the last paragraph, a broad-shouldered guy with tattooed arms sat in the table between them and cracked open a textbook, and the first girl left.