Fiction: Cazy Mocha by Guy Hogan

The Starbucks store at 1912 Pike Place. This i...

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Well, when I picked up my newspaper I got the idea for this post.  See in order to get the newspaper I walked down to the intersection where I usually get it from one of those self-service stands for free papers.  The stand is near the University of Pittsburgh.  And on opposite corners of the intersection are two coffee shops: a Starbucks and a Kiva Han.

Both were full of students.  Pitt is right down the street and CMU is right up the street.  I’ve been in both coffee shops.  They’re nice but too pricey for me. 

But seeing these two trendy coffee shops reminded me of a flash fiction story that I wrote, oh maybe two years ago, about another trendy, pricey coffee shop that I went to in Pittsburgh’s “Little Italy.”

So here is the story.  Remember, a flash fiction story is about a significant event given closure.  The event for the character in the story is that this is the first time he’s been in the place.  And the story’s closure is a little, gentle twist.

*****

Crazy Mocha

It’s 2:45 p..m and I’m in the Crazy Mocha in Bloomfield.  I tell the young woman behind the counter that this is my first time here and could she suggest something.

“I’ve sold a lot of Caramel Lattes today.”

“Okay, I’ll have that.”

I’m really not a coffee drinker but I’m trying something new.  While she makes my latte I scan the board against the wall over her head that list what the place serves and the prices.  Then I notice an advertisement for hot chocolate on the wall that I walked past as I entered but paid no attention to.  I should have gotten that, I say to myself. 

I take my Caramel Latte to one of the small tables in the back that lines each wall.  I take off my windbreaker but leave on my hoodie with the hood down, long shoreman’s cloth cap still on my head.  I put my package of bleach and mouth wash on the chair across from me at the little table, my windbreaker draped over the back of the chair. 

There are three customers in the back with me and two customers at different tables up front next to the big window that looks out on Liberty Avenue, the sky overcast.  All five of the other customers are working at their laptops, the three in back with me face toward the big window up front like I do but the two that sit next to the window face away.  I’m the only person with a pencil and pad.  I’m also the oldest person in the place.  Several customers stand ordering at the counter.  Soft alternative music comes from the PA system.  The lights are medium low; but bright enough so that I don’t need to put on my glasses to write.  The place is relaxing.  I drink my latte and jot in my notepad.  Finally, I check my bus schedule.  Finish my latte.  Bundle back up, get my package, take my cup and saucer up front, say goodbye to the young woman and leave. 

I’ll definitely go back.  It’s a good place to write but I won’t order a latte.  Next time I’ll order the hot chocolate.

The End

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Never Let A Good Story Get Away

That first rush of inspiration is a wonderful thing.  The words pour out of you.  The story seems to write itself.

Wonderful.

But unless you are a very experienced writer, you’ve only written the first draft.  Let that story sit for at least 24 hours.  Then go back and re-read it.  Plus, this is the time to make grammar, punctuation, spelling and clarity as perfect as you can.

Even if you write something as short as a flash fiction story, that first burst of creativity is probably not the real story.  The real story comes 24 hours later.  And usually it will be the better story.

*****

Good morning my Flash Fiction Fanatics and the students at Pitt and CMU.  It’s around 10:00 AM and the Old Soldier is on duty after a restless night sleeping on the sofa.  Don’t ask me why I sleep on the sofa.  My bed is very comfortable.  There are no windows in my bedroom and I sleep alone.  Maybe that’s why I don’t like sleeping in my bed.  And I do a lot of thinking about writing when I’m on the sofa at night, as I watch the shadows dance about the white walls and I listen to the sparse traffic pass out on the avenue.

It’s going to be a sunny day in the 90s.  This is the Old Soldier blogging near the University of Pittsburgh.  Keep reading and keep writing.

Writers: Seeking The Truth Of Experience

The Falk Laboratory School at the University o...

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When we writers write, we are doing more than just stringing words together.  We are doing nothing less than recording what it is to be human.  We are trying to capture life.  This is an honorable task.

So, if you are a writer, be proud of being a writer.  No matter at what level of skill you are at, what you are doing is important.

*****

Hello, my brother and sister readers and writers.  Hello, students at Pitt and CMU.  This is the Old Soldier blogging near the University of Pittsburgh.

It’s around 9:30 PM and the Old Soldier is stretched out on the sofa, jotting in a notebook.  The television is on, tuned to Public Television.  A show is on about the beginning of the human species.  That’s how I got the idea that writers record what it is to be human.

Let this blog be your home for writing and all things flash fiction.

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