“Coffee first. Schemes later.”
― Leanna Renee Hieber
The next night, Leighton scaled down the pipe adjacent to her window with a new kind of excitement. She felt quite out of character. Sneaking out at midnight to meet random guys was not a typical thing for Leighton to do. Not by a long shot. Thus she made her way to the coffee shop feeling a bit like James Bond, which she thought was quite suitable considering she was in England after all.
As she neared the coffee shop, humming the James Bond theme song, a small smile began to form on her face. A smile that fell once she reached its door.
It was closed.
“I am such an idiot! Why in the world did I believe some random guy who I only met two days ago?” She scolded herself mentally. “He must be having quite a laugh knowing that I’d show up to a closed coffee shop! I’m so stupid!”
Just as she was about to turn around and walk back to her aunt’s apartment, she heard footsteps nearing her.
“Oh god! I bet that’s a serial killer! I’m about to die!” Leighton thought, beginning to panic. She considered running, but then thought, “Who am I kidding, the only people I could outrun are either in a wheelchair or dead,” for she was not very athletic at all. Thus she decided to do the only thing she thought plausible. As soon as the footsteps were right behind her, she took her purse and swung it around with all the force she could muster.
Had it been a regular girl, with a regular purse, it most likely wouldn’t have made much of a difference.
But it was not.
It was not a regular girl and it, most definitely, was not a regular purse.
Leighton, who next to never cleaned out her purse, had an umbrella, a novel, tons of loose change, and a water bottle among many other things, stashed inside her purse. Thus being hit by it wasn’t much less than getting hit by Thor’s hammer.
Thus the person who was following her went down with the blow.
As Leighton was feeling a bit proud of herself for defending herself against some serial killer, she happened to look at the face of her so-called attacker. And immediately all the blood drained out of her face.
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I'm so sorry that it was so short! I just happen to have terrible writer's block for this story! I had it all planned out and everything. But yesterday, I realized that the first half of it was completely messed up.
So if you guys want to help me, here is your chance.
Give me a list of things one can do after midnight. If I decide to choose your idea, you will recieve a dedication to the chapter which features your idea.
So if you guys could help me, it would be awesome!
Amazingness xx
ŞİMDİ OKUDUĞUN
Makeshift Cafe
Romantizm"What is this about?" you ask, clicking on the little description button. "Coffee," I answer, rather mysteriously. "Coffee?" you wonder, puzzlement flooding your face. "Yes," I answer. "First and foremost this is a story about coffee. A story of ste...
