top of page
Search
Writer's pictureTattoo Magazine

Starlight Coffee | Maggie Feinberg

they ran ran ran, feet pounding on the cracked sidewalk, raincoat flapping open behind them.

they were breathless, mind empty. they let the wind take them where it would.

by the time they stopped running, the sky was dark and the streetlights cast puddles of light.

they looked up.

the wind had taken them to a coffee shop.

they pushed open the door with a soft jingle and felt all the tension seep out of them. it was like the shop was giving them a hug.

strands of lights draped from the ceiling. old uneven brick walls. blackboards with the menu written in clear calligraphy. paintings

of the moon. dark oak floors that looked like they would creak.

a woman stepped out of the back room. she wore a leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up, exposing tattoos, stark black on pale

skin. she was shorter than them but on first glance appeared to be taller.

she felt like the loving mom they never had.

she rushed toward them with words like “honey” and “come in” and “hot chocolate.” waited for their permission and then

enveloped them in a hug.

she smelled like coffee and woodsmoke and flour. she smelled like love.

6 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Bottles | Emma Baker

The candlelight shone off the colored glass of the bottles that lined the shelves, flickering and illuminating the old, faded labels....

The Guardian | Emma Baker

He’s waited for such a very long time. For as far back as he can remember, he’s known of his task—to protect his king even if it costs...

Breathe | Claire Beaumont

I feel the cusp of unformed emotions bubbling up in my throat. They threaten to spill out at inopportune moments. A throwaway phrase, a...

Commentaires


Post: Blog2_Post
bottom of page