The steaming cup felt good in her cool hands. There was no fancy decoration made from the froth of steamed milk, but it tasted good and warmed the soul. This was her little piece of paradise to visit locally. Nice music, familiar friendly faces and space enough to write her heart out.
Usually she wrote poems or letters, but tonight she began a bigger endeavor. She wanted to begin a short story and had put it off for months. Tonight was the night she would take the plunge into fiction. She took a sip of coffee and began to write.