Lonely Morning Haze 4

"Go to hell."

I stood there, stunned at the words. They were feeble ones, admittedly, the sudden outburst of one unaccustomed to swearing. Her voice wavered slightly, her conviction shaky and unsure.

And yet, there I was looking completely, utterly shocked.

Her face, still stuck in a scowl that betrayed no small amount of hate, shifted to uncertainty, and then pain. A tear rolled down her cheek as she held the books to her chest, as she bumped past me.

I watched her run, her movements awkward as she broke into a run...

---

"Mark."

Mark looked up from the computer screen at the cafe, "Hmm?"

Anna stood beside him, bag slung over his shoulder, "Let's get out of here, Mark. It's seven already."

Mark blinked, adjusting his eyes from the glow of the monitor to the darkness of the internet cafe. "Alright, just let me save this."

Anna watched over his shoulder smiling, "Still working on that story, huh?"

"Yeah."

"What's inspiring you to do that?"

"Nothing really." Nothing that I can tell you... yet. Mark opened up a browser, posting it up on his website.

"Did you ever think that you could go pro?"

Mark uploaded the file and closed the browser, standing up to head to the counter. "What do you mean?"

"I meant writing for money. Like a real author." Anna pushed her glasses up her nose, "I mean, you seem to have a real knack for it."

Mark shrugged, "Thanks, but I've never really had the ability to really finish anything. I never have what it takes to follow through."

Anna frowned, "That's no good, it's a waste of your talent!"

Mark chuckled as they stepped outside, and began to walk, taking the shortcut through the park. It was a rather wet evening, where the sky was brighter than it should be, the clouds a dull purple haze, the raindrops dancing in the streetlights.

Mark fished into his bag and took out an umbrella, opening it. "Talent..." he mused, as Anna walked beside him, "There's no money in writing." he explained, "Even if I had the talent, there's nowhere for it to go."

Anna frowned, "That's not true! Look at all the people who write novels! There's got to be something there."

"Maybe there is, maybe there isn't," What is she trying to do? Mark shrugged, "In either case, I don't think I'll be a great writer. I'll just be a regular joe schmoe, stuck in a pencil pusher's job, watching the clock and chatting with co-workers by the water dispenser." he smiled at her.

Anna raised an eyebrow, "Wow... that's some ambition you've got there. I can think of like... zero people who consider that the ideal lifestyle."

"You haven't spoken to enough office workers who are too engrossed with keeping their jobs and paying their bills."

"And you have?" Anna huffed, "Come on, you and I both know that's a load of bull." she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Maybe it is." Mark said, "But the point is, writing isn't a stable job, besides, it's underappreciated, underpaid, emotionally draining and requires a measure of commitment reserved for the desperate, the delusional or the religious."

"Then all you need to do is to write about something you like." she said, "Sounds easy enough."

"Easy?" Mark laughed, "It only looks easy."

"Are you saying I can't do it?" Anna had a dangerous tone in her voice.

"Well... no." Mark said, "I'm just saying that writing is harder than it looks."

"I challenge you." she said, pointing at him, her index finger poking the tip of his nose.

"Whuh?"

"We'll both write something, but it has to be a novel." Anna explained, "You write about something that you like, and I'll do the same. And we have to be done with it by the end of the semester."

Mark grinned, "Hah! Challenge me, will you? I know I can do it... but can you?"

Anna winked, "Never underestimate the power of a motivated woman."

---

More slice of life stories. This one isn't something I can say I'm really proud of, but ah well. Might as well put it up anyway. As usual, I'm open to any comments or suggestions on what to do next with this story.