The Kids in the Cafe

[theanniversary]

When her mother opened the door, I noticed that Jessica was sitting alone in the living room knitting. She’d recently adopted this new hobby, and I joked with her saying “You know, my grandmother knits maybe you could learn something from her.” She always shrugged my jokes off, because their timing was always off or they were just clever, and no one laughs at a joke that is “just clever”.
While Jessica sped to put her knitting equipment away, I glanced at the dining room table. Letters from the previous week had piled up, and I noticed the recent acceptance letter from Depaul University.
Her mother grazed passed me and asked, “How was your day?”
“Good, and yours?”
“It was good.” She nodded her head in reassurance.
Jessica and I went up to her room and listened to a CD. After repeating the conversation I had with her mother only now it was with Jessica, we realized that our greetings had become formulaic and uninviting. Bored, we left to go on one of our usual late night coffee and pancake runs.
The café was dimly light and crowed with the typical late night crowd. A few truckers were scattered amongst the smoking section, and the non-smoking section was crowded with the average groups of loud teenagers. Although we didn’t want to be associated with those kids, we still sat near those kids, because neither of us smoked.
“God, those kids are acting like idiots.” I had no reason to hate them so much, it was just I felt like I was almost above them, like their frank manners and noisy gestures were beneath me.
Jessica added, “They just don’t know how to behave themselves.” She felt it too, this feeling of superiority, but we were both just as confused and bewildered by life as the group of kids. But because we read books, studied in school, and had “direction” to our lives, we thought we were above it.
Our conversation followed its normal routine. Starting with our usual comments on the latest book we read and only after that we’d actually begin to say something.
Her coffee mug was shaking in her hand. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you weren’t hungry. We didn’t have to come here.”
“It’s alright. I’ll just chew on this toast.” She kept glancing away at other tables or out the window, and her skin paled. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Now, she was blushing.
“Just tell me.”
She placed her head in her palm and paused. “It’s just, when I was driving to Franks to get some of my knitting materials,” she paused and I smirked about her new hobby. “Yesterday, it hit me. Everything, I mean, I’m going to college in a couple of months and then I’m gonna become an adult and I don’t even know how to take care of myself. I can’t cook or anything. I mean, my sister just bought first apartment and I have no idea how that works or anything and it’s just, it’s just…” Her hands continued to shake and her skin flushed. “And you, I love you. I’m going to college but know we’ll be fine. We’ll make it. I’m just so happy with you. Don’t get the wrong idea, I mean… I don’t want to break up with you or anything. I’m just so frightened…” She trailed on about every hesitation and anxiety that plagued her.
“You’re shaking.”
“Heh,” a processed laugh escaped her. “Some people think I’m on drugs.”
I knew she wasn’t, and I knew I loved her but I still couldn’t think of anything to say. I couldn’t even come up with some joke that was just clever enough to get her to smile. I told the only thing I knew, “It’ll be alright.”
When we were walking out, I glanced back at the group of teenagers and the sad truth was they were exactly like Jessica and I.
After we got back, we went up to her room and put on another CD. Covered in her sheets, we lay in her bed and gazed into the ceiling, and we felt like the future would never come.

[Unwilling]

I'm kind of busy, but I'll try my best to leave an opinion later on.

[Oblivion]

i liked it, but the urn one was sooooooooooooo good

[Unwilling]

before I start reading, I printed this story in notepad [I prefer MS Word yes, but there’s a point that I just start opening notepad]. I It was less then a page. I know it’s a short story, and indeed, short is a relative term, but still, I’d try to expand my word count. That’s a problem because most people are eager to show off their work. I’m sure you mean more to do with the story [I hope at least] , but it seems a bit hazardous to the story.

Why? When I write something, I look forward to people reading and commenting on my work. However, I reserve what I show to a certain point in the work. Once you get that reward, you might get lazy or put the work aside [to picking it up later or never]. I’ve seen writers begin a story [myself included], flaunt the work [comments or not] on the internet, then all of a sudden, their former enthusiasm to the work dies. While this may be attributed to the lost of the novelty of the storyl I’d still establish a quota until I so show it off.

[When her mother opened the door.]
^
I’d recommend you don’t start with the pronoun, [unless this is a continuation of something else.] It makes the work appear lazy. Remember, the first sentence is do-or-die a lot of the time for writers.

[“You know, my grandmother knits,…”]
^ add that comma

[their timing…cleaver]

readers enjoy characters that have problems. I just want to note [says the one who over-analyzes] that because you’ve having her say this; it’s obvious that she’s channeling her failure to make others to laugh on the joke itself or the timing; but not herself. That would either mean that she’s a bit slow in admitting things to being her fault [or just jokes.] I just wanted to note that.

“God, those kids are acting like idiots.” I had no reason to hate them so much, it was just I felt like I was almost above them, like their frank manners and noisy gestures were beneath me.
^Good job here. But, perhaps they should throw something at her first; usually people don’t say anything out loud until they’re hit.

[this feeling of superiority, but we were both just as confused and bewildered by life as the group of kids. ]
^ I don’t know if you should tell me that. Allow the reader to assume about their childhood through their actions. just saying that suffices. saying anymore is giving too much away.

[She trailed on about every hesitation and anxiety that plagued her. ]
^ I’d like to hear about them. It seems that you’re giving too much away if you just said that sentence. But, you know, it seems that people like to skip past the boring parts. You can, [for now] but I would recommend that

[I glanced back at the group of teenagers and the sad truth was they were exactly like Jessica and I. ]
^ how?

[“Some people think I’m on drugs.” ]
^ is it like your character to make a quip about that?

I don’t know what to really make of it because it I kind of small.

[theanniversary]

I guess should elaborate on why this story is so concise. Well, first off, this is more prose than a story. I try to right prose everyday, for practice, and when I like what I've written I show it to other people. And another reason why this particular piece is short is due to the fact that the story is unresolved. With my daily prose, I often continue characters and their conflicts and I rarely resolve them.

Sorry if that doesn't make sense.

[dare2dream319]

umm I'm really not sure