Last week, I was at the cafe writing. Or trying to. The current wip is hitting a dark emotional place, which is so unlike my normal snarky style. I wasn't stuck. It just felt like I waded through waist-deep mud to reach each word.
Then a gentleman sat down at the table next to mine. I swear to cow, this guy could have been Daniel Craig's brother. Same chiseled jaw and cheek bones. Same piercing blue eyes. He was a shade taller than Daniel, not quite so wide in the shoulders. But damn, he definitely could have made a living as a celebrity look-alike.
He caught me staring. I gave him an embarrassed smile and tried to focus on my laptop screen. About then, his two kids came up to him with trays. They'd collected the food while Dad had grabbed a table.
It was the little things about the family that grabbed my attention. My Craig look-alike wore a a very simple silver wedding band, but a Rolex adorned his wrist. He looked casual in khaki shorts, a polo and sandals, but the clothing was too expensive, well-made, to be from the Walmart down the street. He may not have been born with money, but he wasn't impressed by it either.
His son would have his features when he grew up, but for now the boy carried a hint of roundness. And like his father, the son was quiet, contemplative. His daughter also bore his genes in the high cheekbones, but her expressive dark eyes softened the sharp features. Her personality sparkled and zipped, quite the opposite of her father's quiet assurance.
What kind of person was his wife? She obviously had to work on Good Friday from the kids' chatter. How long had they been together? Who made the first move? Were they still happy, or at least content with their lives?
Finally, the family left. But my Craig look-alike give me one more curious glance as he herded the kids toward the door. Goddess, only knows what he was thinking about me, in my knit shorts and Corvette t-shirt, sitting alone with only a laptop for company.
And for some strange reason, I was no longer slogging through mud, but skipping and prancing through the next two thousand words.
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