Maybe if I post this, in concrete form, on my blog, I’ll be motivated to actually flesh out this little novel of mine…
Amber Elba drummed her fingers on the coffeeshop counter, craning her neck a bit. If she kept her gaze unfocused, it would appear to others she was peering intently at the cash register before her. Really, she was in the midst of watching a businessman about to take a tumble.
Trip. Do it. I know you’re gonna do it.
The man, all-professional in his navy blue slacks and tie, wobbled toward the back corner table with four large cappuccinos. Amber absently reached under the counter for the paper towel roll. In the forefront of her mind, the scene about to transpire repeated itself like a cartoon on loop: a nail-head jutted out of the floorboard in the man’s path; he’d catch his left foot on it, stumble forward, and promptly drop all four beverages on the floor. Splash the lady in the gray suit–no, the girl in the beige one, even worse!
Amber made her way from behind the counter and toward the potential scene. Just as she crept up behind him, the man let out a startled yelp and fell forward.
Hot coffee flew in large droplets all around. The espresso-covered woman promptly swore. Amber gave the players a moment and herself a few seconds to take it all in. Almost missed the beige detail, still. Nailed it.
She tapped the businessman on the shoulder. He whirled around in rage to face her, red-faced and sputtering.
“Here you go, sir,” she said, trying to keep the grin off her face as he snatched the paper towels from her hands.
Just another day at the office.