“So how’s work?”
“Oh my god, I love it!” You sighed happily, smiling softly to yourself. “Everyone is so nice, and funny, and helpful…”
“That sounds pretty good.”
“Yeah, but I can’t cover any story I want though. I have assignments.” You fiddled with your coffee cup. “Looks like no matter what you do, and where you go, school never quite leaves you.”
“What do you expect? It’s writing.” I said, leaning back into the plush material of our Café booth.
“But writing is a creative expression; something that comes from the heart and the mind.” You stared at your cup longingly. “You can’t force someone to write—let alone say something—they don’t believe in or want to do.”
“You signed up for this. That’s what they want.” I rolled my eyes. “You are such a drama queen sometimes.”
You sighed dramatically, and then placed the back of your hand to your forehead. “Woe is me.”
“You just proved my point.”
“It’s called acting, Levi.”
“Well, stick to writing, cause you’re not very good at it.”
“Oh, shut up.”
YOU ARE READING
Nicotine
Short StoryAbout a boy who smokes, And a girl who doesn't want him to, But mostly about how she seems to save him. © by Sydney Druckman 2022. Early matters subject to change.
