Adventure. Risk. I saw it darting from his eyes the second he walked into the semi- crowded coffee shop that I spent 95% of my life in. I saw it even in the simplicity of him ordering his coffee. Black coffee. Simply Black. That was what made me endlessly intrigued by each of his achingly beautiful movements. He was an interesting man, and each time we were both longing for the bitter pinch of caffeine on our taste buds, this is the place we went. The music, the lights, the smell of uniqueness and old books, with text swimming on the pages. It was everything I needed when the pesky case of writer’s block diseased my mind. There’s some things you should know about me. First off, I’m not a twenty-something hipster sitting in coffee shops, listening to The Neighborhood, and planning my next appointment to get a compass or an infinity sign tattooed on my forearm. I’m not watching some man’s every move, waiting for him to slip me what he thinks is my favorite book, having his phone number ever so pleasantly sketched in the front cover. I do however, have the gnawing passion to write.