Post by HENRY GOSSE on Jan 5, 2012 22:15:03 GMT -5
{ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - & - - - - - - - - - - - - - - } &&
i'm just a little bit heiress, a little bit irish &
a little bit tower of pisa whenever i see you&&
[/font]i'm just a little bit heiress, a little bit irish &
a little bit tower of pisa whenever i see you&&
Oh, rain. All afternoon Henry had sat staring out the window of the local Starbucks, hidden away in a back corner with headphones jammed in his ears and his shoulders huddled over his laptop, rueing the rain that kept him trapped in this coffee shop and away from his apartment ten blocks away. Of course, he could easily have walked the distance--ten minutes in the rain wasn't so bad--but some deeply entrenched trecherous side of his conscious insisted every time he stood to pack up that the rain was starting to clear up, and surely the sun would be out and shining if he waited just five more minutes. And so he would sit down again and reopen the lid of the laptop and get back to work until ten minutes later, when he would repeat the entire process all over again in some godless state of half-unrest and half-work.
And only to add to this restlessness caused by the rain, Henry had managed in five hours to drown himself in two grande cups of coffee--black, like his soul, or any other such thing that contains no sugar or cream--with the third sitting on the other end of his half-occupied two-person table (far from any precious electrical equipment it may dare to splatter on), so that his leg shook to the point of his questioning whether RLS was possible to develop solely through coffee consumption and typing became near impossible, which was something he was usually considerably proficient in. So when he finally made the difficult decision to face his watery foe head-on, his body creaked and crackled a chorus of gratitude as he set to work unplugging and packing up the various devices strewn across his small cluttered workspace.
At last he slung his backpack strap over one shoulder and picked up his coffee cup with the other hand. On his way to the door he waved a goodbye to the barista who smiled back because he was a regular customer every week on his way home from Barrie and because, hell, anyone who is about to face a storm like the one he was about to step into deserved at least some kind of small kindness before they cast off into the menacing downpour.
But when he finally did take those first steps outside, it was even worse than he had predicted from the cozy interior of the Starbucks. Torrents of rain battered down from the relentless black above, and the wind kicked frigidly at the tail of his coat, somewhere beyond the stormy sidewalk cars and taxis buzzed and honked in the stormy street. Henry flipped up the collar of his coat close around his neck and adjusted the shoulder strap of his bag, pausing to consider turning back to seek shelter in the warm comfort of a few more coffee cups and his work.
And only to add to this restlessness caused by the rain, Henry had managed in five hours to drown himself in two grande cups of coffee--black, like his soul, or any other such thing that contains no sugar or cream--with the third sitting on the other end of his half-occupied two-person table (far from any precious electrical equipment it may dare to splatter on), so that his leg shook to the point of his questioning whether RLS was possible to develop solely through coffee consumption and typing became near impossible, which was something he was usually considerably proficient in. So when he finally made the difficult decision to face his watery foe head-on, his body creaked and crackled a chorus of gratitude as he set to work unplugging and packing up the various devices strewn across his small cluttered workspace.
At last he slung his backpack strap over one shoulder and picked up his coffee cup with the other hand. On his way to the door he waved a goodbye to the barista who smiled back because he was a regular customer every week on his way home from Barrie and because, hell, anyone who is about to face a storm like the one he was about to step into deserved at least some kind of small kindness before they cast off into the menacing downpour.
But when he finally did take those first steps outside, it was even worse than he had predicted from the cozy interior of the Starbucks. Torrents of rain battered down from the relentless black above, and the wind kicked frigidly at the tail of his coat, somewhere beyond the stormy sidewalk cars and taxis buzzed and honked in the stormy street. Henry flipped up the collar of his coat close around his neck and adjusted the shoulder strap of his bag, pausing to consider turning back to seek shelter in the warm comfort of a few more coffee cups and his work.
outfit[/b];; i give up on trying to finding manly polyvore templates.
words[/b];; 478
tags[/b];; ivyerika
lyrics[/b];; cigarettes and chocolate milk,
by rufus wainwright
notes[/b];; i fixed the template finally o-o
made by;; lake[/size]
