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It was no surprise the coffeehouse was crowded. What did surprise him was the lovely creature sitting at one of the many tables so randomly strewn about. She sat with a group and sipped her chosen libation with her head in a newspaper, oblivious to their lively conversation. Clearly, though she dressed the part of just another local office professional, she was alone and not part of their circle.
By Ollie on 02.13.2018
Wow, look at all of these aspiring writers going to town on their Macbooks at 11:30 in the morning. Do they have jobs? Are their memoirs going to pay the bills? Do people even want to read the memoirs of a 25 year old? Thank god Starbucks has given them the confidence and the wifi to tackle these questions head on.
By Kristian Pierce on 02.13.2018
She heard the steady beat of the smooth jazz in her periphery. She turned the final page of the book and sighed, sipping the dregs of her coffee. This day was coming to an end and she wasn’t ready.
By Bridget Grace on 02.13.2018
Every day, she came to that tiny coffeehouse in New York City, hoping for money and admiration and, even more than either of those things, love. Real, true love. It was what she had searched for all of her lonely, miserable life, and it was the one thing she truly craved.
That Friday evening, cool and damp and dark, she was beginning to set up shop in the coffeehouse.
By Annie on 02.13.2018
coffe houses are for hipsters. they wear bennies and glasses
By Autumn URL on 02.13.2018
coffeehouses are for hipsters. they wear benies and glasses. they drink coffee and work on their computers.
coffeehouses are for hipsters. They wear benies and glasses. The group drink lots of coffe .
She was waiting there, drink left undrunk and going cold on the table. Surely he would come. But as with her coffee the hope was dying and w
By Maria on 02.13.2018
Well, then, pretty lady. I guess I have to run into you again at this quaint little coffeehouse. I guess we’ll have to both endure the boy in the beret beating on the bongos – like my alliteration there? Who knows if either of us are exactly that into poetry – I have mixed feelings myself. They make a good mocha here, so if you want, pretty lady, you can have a couple on me. It’s entirely your call.
By Belinda Roddie URL on 02.13.2018
I sit in the corner booth. I hold my book in my hands and wonder at it. So many words. So many pages. Gosh, i think, gosh i love books. they are incredible. They are thier own world wrapped up in binding. what a wonderous thing a book is.
By That Scarlet One on 02.13.2018
The coffeehouse is what we used to call the old shack we found in the woods. The first night we stumbled across the old, rundown building.. we’d found the coffee grounds scattered across the porch and the doorstep… scattered among the bones.
By Lee on 02.13.2018
That one little coffeehouse was finally being torn down. It was a long time coming, but it didn’t change the general atmosphere. No one had ever liked the coffeehouse, and no one had ever really gone to it, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that it had always been there, and now it wasn’t.
By Marlow on 02.13.2018
The place was crowded as usual peolpe and voices bouncing off the walls. We decided to meet early to get through the bulk of what were the problems, but spent most of our time trying to get the pieces of each others voices untangled from the mess of the other noises all competing for the diminishing volume in the humid shop.
By Flyderkov URL on 02.13.2018
He scoffed and slapped the pamphlet down on the table.
“You wanna put her in a home?”
“It is,” he said, more tired than angry, “it is, it is what you’re saying, Mary, and you can say it. You can say it out loud if you want to.”
“And what if I don’t want to?”
By Riannon on 02.13.2018
hot drip drop
kindly caffiene coforting with my synapsis
coffeehouse, contain me
inspire me to be a better writer
inspire me to inspire these words
i broke back
you click clack
typing until i’m black and blue
By Matt m. on 02.13.2018
the coffeehouse sat in the middle of the forrest, obscured by heavy fog. Nobody was there. Just the house. And the coffee. Still hot. The house was hot too. It oozed of steam and a vile green liquid pouring down from the rafters. Fruit bats gathered in nests and swarmed about the place, eating rodents off the floor with absolute impunity.
By JSal on 02.13.2018
“Let’s meet up in the coffeehouse,” Claire said as she walked away.
John stared at her for a minute before turning away.
“Well, that was unexpected,” He said to himself.
He was just looking for Claire to give her books back.
“Well, I can’t keep her waiting,” he said as he followed her.
By echuaco URL on 02.14.2018
Coffehouse, like the one where you sat alone with a book, or your computer. Sometimes you were involved in your book or imaginary place that you’d dreamt up for yourself, other times, you knew, felt, you were alone.
By jassy on 02.14.2018
the lonely girl came to the coffeehouse everyday at precisely 5:00 to watch the sunset and look out into the small busy town wondering why nothing ever changes.
By autumn on 02.14.2018
Dark and dirty, the Edison Coffeehouse on Washington Street kept in business due to the plethora of crack they sold out the kitchen door. You would enter, order a dirty latte from the barista, he would take your name, and then you’d proceed out into the alley to pick up your drugs.
By Chuck URL on 02.14.2018
Elgin, Food, Eating Out, poetry slam, frappe, mocha latte, edge of town, Sunday breakfast
By Kristen Evans on 02.14.2018
I sat in the coffeehouse, whiskey in hand. Yes, whiskey not coffee. Sometimes you need a better boost, especially when death opens the door.
By Riley on 02.14.2018
when i’m drunk
sometimes i imagine myself in full clarity
words unspoken communitcated in angst
a sigh like a flag unfurled
a nationalistic chant
“us vs them”
confusion is sex
i wonder how i got here
as the coffeehouse disappears
i remember you
the sad sack sighs
and never was
one day this will be us
one day it will be enough
By Matt m. on 02.14.2018
Coffeehouse? I’m actually a little confused by the word. What exactly is a coffeehouse? Is coffee made there? Does it sell coffee? Or is it just another word for a coffee shop? When I first saw the word, the one thing that came to mind was the cafes that make up the Melburnian brunch scene. The ones I visit most weekends and the same ones I promised I wouldn’t go to because I neither like their coffee, nor their food. Okay this might be a lie because most of the time I do enjoy their food but I never really care much for their coffee. To be very honest, I normally prefer a coffee from McDonalds. Everytime I visit one of these places there are always references to the coffee and how this particular cafe has the best coffee or in some instances there is a special room that is clear, that has the coffee grinding machines and coffee beans. I’m not sure if this is supposed to reenforce how great their coffee is or maybe it has to do with showing people where things come from? how they are produced? I mean how many people think about where their coffee beams comes from?
By anna on 02.14.2018
‘If this is all there is then I want my money back,’ she said. ‘You promised cafe culture. This looks like a wayward station for rejects.’
Why would these shadow-like creatures invade my refuge and hide in this coffeehouse? They crowded the walls in the shop, peering over frothy coffee cups, leaving room only for the door to open and room to move down a narrow path to the counter. It was hard to see between individuals they were so closely packed together. Each hatted and muffled person, wearing a coat spongy with damp, seemed to merge and blend in with their neighbour. The damp clothes and the steam rising from the coffee fogged the room until condensing it ran down the large windows facing the street. When the door opened and gusts of cold fresh air invaded, the mass repelled away, shrinking into the mist with groans and gnashing of teeth.
By Meredyth URL on 02.14.2018
One day, I was sitting in a cozy coffeehouse. I was attempting to finish an essay that was assigned to me weeks ago. My procrastination caused me to hold it off till the last moment.
By christina on 02.14.2018
Coffe house is a house where all kind of coffee are found. One who loves coffe will love the place. Coffee consists of caffine. It is good for blood pressure patients.
By CoinGeto URL on 02.14.2018
Muffled chatter fills the background of our conversation. I only see you and all of your details. The way you gently lift the cup to your lips. The way your eyes shift to the window as people walk by. I want to remember every movement, every piece of you.
By Jennifer C. URL on 02.14.2018
I love a good coffee house. Not because I drink coffee. I don’t. But I do love the smell of the place. The chatter of friends getting together. The occasional music on a Friday night of a local group that nobody’s heard of. Oh, and I also love the next best thing to coffee, in my personal opinion- a tall hot chocolate with a splash of toffee nut syrup.
By G on 02.14.2018
Adda, lots of laughter, a lot of newspapers and a pair of quiet spectacles lending perspective to the whole ambience. Making friends, strengthening friendships, and making news r
By Dipanwita Shome on 02.15.2018
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.