Red Persian carpet under my feet. Turquoise velvet chair holds me. Chatter of customers in the café mixed with house music gives permission to my thoughts to slow down. Take a pause.
Take a pause from begging for a miracle. A miracle that allows me to quit my 9-5 and just live for the words. Live for the stories. Live to create.
I look around me.
Stories.
People.
A few scrollers.
Laughter of friends.
Glass plates clinking.
Curly hair. Lush curly hair.
Shimmery dangling silver earrings.
Painting of a ship in the blue ocean screams freedom at me.
I yell (in my head), “Freedom is a state of mind. That’s what my spirit guides told me.”
The sea smirks, “For some, it is no 9-5.”
Ouch. Sea is salty.
Music of a song makes me sway. I Shazam it.
“Remember Summer Days” by Anri.
Yeah Anri, I do remember summer days. Summer days were holy. The days with the words and the evenings with my love.
“Let’s not lose hope”, the Americano cheers me up.
A miracle can still change your life.
A miracle.
I surrender to the air, “Dearest friend, go find me a miracle!”
She flows out the door behind the girl with red hair.
Until next time,
XOXO
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