I slowly panned my view all around me as if I was in a Michael Bay film, hoping to spot my gum benefactor. This was no mere coincidence. In my moment of greatest need, she was there for me just like Miranda was there for Zeek.
Except she didn’t need a knife to save me as writer’s block barreled down toward me.
I slapped my macbook shut, unplugged the charger and darted out of Starbucks. Where was Miranda … I mean, the purple haired girl. Sometimes my mind mixes reality and my imagination. I can’t help it. I’m a writer. This is a bane and blessing rolled into one delicious mix.
Disappointingly, there wasn’t any purple hair in sight. I immediately scanned the parking lot for a befitting car but didn’t see a purple Prius hatchback. Damn. I stood on my toes and frantically looked for a hatchback of any color and couldn’t find a single one in the Starbucks lot. The astounding odds of this baffled me.
I walked past the green-umbrella protected islands of conversation and glanced at three tea-patrons sipping on their half empty drinks.
“Did you see a girl with purple hair walk past here?” I asked.
“Purple hair?” answered a guy with a red beard.
“Yes. She had a nose-ring too. Not too big though.”
The guy with a red beard glanced around. “No buddy. Can’t say that I did.”
“I’m serious. It was like thirty seconds ago.”
A skinny girl with straight, black hair chimed in, “Did she forget something?”
“No … well, I mean … maybe. She left me some gum.” This elicited only silence from the potential witnesses. Nobody understands life as a writer.
This would not be my denouement. I paced around the corner for a better view of cars on the other side.
Then I spotted her.
In a red truck. What? This made zero sense to me.
She was backing up and about to shift gears back into drive. I needed to get to her. I picked up speed and started to jog to her car but it was too late. She didn’t even glance in my direction. She exited the parking lot with a right turn.
Fate couldn’t even give me one long left turn at a busy intersection.