I walk through the door on the the cafe side of Hastings in Benton. It has become my usual place to be on Friday mornings.

I sit at one of the tables that are situated between the magazines and the Hardback Coffee Cafe. Immediately I begin pulling out my notebook, pen, and the current manuscript I’m working on and begin to work.

My other writing places are at home, Pulaski Tech’s library, and the Bryant public library. The change of scenery seems to help my creative mind. This is how I have learned to break my writer’s block.

I love it here, being surrounded by books. It’s just like being at the library, but it has a different atmosphere. The aroma of coffee, my favorite smell, teases my nose. Its alluring magic overwhelms my sense of want like an imaginary hand, pulling my attention towards the coffee counter. I get up and place my order, Chai tea frappe.

I watch the tall blonde young woman make my order. Her hair pulled up in a short pony tail. She has a colorful tattoo on her arm that I cannot quite make out and a bracelet that looks to be made out of blue plastic beads. She sets my cup down in front of me and tells me how much it is. I hand her exact change and return to my seat.

I slowly drink my frappe and the cold taste hits my taste buds; a wonderful mixture of vanilla and creme, sweetness and cold. It hits the spot and the imaginary hand soon disappears.

I finally begin to write. The words just pour out onto the page. Customers come in and out through the door behind me, ordering their drinks. I never stop to look up to watch them, though I can see them in my peripheral view. Some sit and tap on their laptops, or browse through the magazines before moving into the other part of the store.

A lady sitting at the table next to mine taps away at her laptop. She’s been here every Friday like me, though she arrives before I do. I listen unintentionally to her long fake nails clicking on the keyboards. They make a rhythmic, yet annoying sound, but only last for a few minutes as she packs her laptop into its bag and leaves.

The employees behind the register rotate out. The young blonde woman is replaced by a tall, dark haired young man with a beard. He turns the music on, playing it low on the speakers overhead. Immediately he begins to sing along. First it’s Adele, followed by Christina Aguilera. i smile, still staring down at my notebook. Soon I find myself humming along. I don’t seem to mind listening to him sing as he isn’t bad.

He walks around the small cafe, wiping the table tops. I look up and my eyes wonder to the magazines. Famous places, cars, faces, and movie stars stare back at me. It’s time for a mental break. I pack my things into my bag and head back towards the books.

After a few minutes of walking through the aisles at a snail’s pace, my phone rings. My sister wants to meet up for lunch. Pizza. My stomach helps me answer yes. I didn’t realize the time, it was almost 1 PM. I had been here for three and a half hours. Time had surely flown, but yet I made great use of that time. I’m looking forward to next Friday morning and begin, what seems like a routine, all over again.