Fortune cookies

It was a usual morning; people around me were rushing about their business, and the city just started waking up. The sun was mercilessly beating down, penetrating through the pristine glass of the coffee shop, tripping over the curves of sofas and tables, and getting lost under the bar counter. The aroma of freshly made cappuccino filled the room and pleasantly tickled the sense of smell. I was sitting on a high stool and tamping marshmallows into the hot drink. Spring has come. Somewhere in other latitudes, this time of year is accompanied by rain or even melting snow. But in Phoenix, everything was different. In the morning, the sun was mercilessly baking, forcing people to buy iced drinks and ice cream, hide in the shade of coffee shops, and turn on air conditioners in offices, houses, and cars. And this coffee shop was no exception. The air conditioner quietly hummed, waging a cold war with the sun, and my laptop's hard drive, which I had placed on the counter next to my mug of hot cappuccino. At any time of year, I love hot cappuccino. It became my favorite beverage since university when my biggest problems were assignments, finals, and the classmate constantly making stupid jokes.

Rubbing my nose, which was itching from the aroma of marshmallows melting in the cappuccino, I took a sip of the already-cooled drink and grabbed three fortune cookies from a small glass candy bowl. I have never been superstitious, but every time I touched the smooth surface of the fortune cookie, broke it in half, and read the tiny letters, I felt a thrill and an accelerated heartbeat in my chest.

I often went into this coffee shop by my house to get a tasty cappuccino and a few fortune cookies for the day, the next day, and the week ahead. And when each cookie would be broken, would be decided by chance.

I broke in half the first fortune cookie and read the inscription "Embrace the fresh start, new beginnings are your path to success, and go for it!"

Propping my cheek with my palm, I looked at the laptop screen and scrolled with my finger, reading the morning email. No responses to the resumes I had sent out earlier were in the email box, and no one was in a hurry to invite me for an interview either. New beginnings were in no haste to enter my life.

I tore my gaze away from the laptop and looked inside the coffee shop. I decided to move to a table. Taking my laptop, ordering another cup of my favorite drink, and grabbing the remaining two cookies, I moved to a table in the corner of the coffee shop. Quiet music was pouring from the speaker, which interfered with my thinking a little, but not critically. I opened the file of my resume to make edits and send it to new vacancies. But then I opened a blank Word sheet, and the cursor blinked, inviting me to dare and start new endeavors that would bring me success. I have loved writing since childhood. It is time to dare and try to write a book. After all, the idea has been maturing in my head for a long time. Who would have thought that I would take up writing? However, what kind of writing is that, more like pampering and a waste of time...

I broke in half the second fortune cookie and read the inscription "Fateful meeting will change your life forever."

"Well, well, new beginnings, fateful meetings, the day promises to be interesting," I thought.

The barista put the cup on the counter, calling out the order number. I thanked him, took the cappuccino, and returned to my table. I continued thinking about my story and the fact that it could well become a full-fledged book or even a series of books. A faint knock on the table tore me out of my thoughts. I closed my eyes and fell into a dream. Having my eyes open and looking at the source of the noise, I was at a loss for words. A man was pointing to the chair next to me asking a permission to use it. After making sure that I was not delirious, I could only quietly utter

“Yes...”

The man had sat on the chair and adjusted his hood as if fencing himself off from me and other people. Looking down at the laptop, I slowly came to my senses. “Am I hallucinating?! Do I have a fever or something?!”

Slowly turning my gaze back to the man, I looked at him.

“It is him!”

Noticing my intense staring, he only darkened and pulled his hood down even tighter.

“And you...”

He quickly stood up and just as quickly headed for the exit.

“Wait! Please!”

I ran out of the coffee shop after him. His icy eyes looked in my direction.

“Listen! Please!”

He finally stopped and silently looked through me.

“I am...”

My thoughts were all mixed up in my head, but I continued.

“I want to become a good writer…”

Silence was the answer.

“I won’t ask you for anything, I don’t need anything from you. I just want to know how to write a good book… like yours. I want my characters to live too... like yours”

The voice trembled treacherously.

“That’s all I want… Please tell my how I can do it”

The man slowly put away his hood, his icy eyes looking straight into my soul.

“First, write for yourself, then worry about the audience.”

He only said that and turned around and quickly disappeared around the corner of the coffee shop.

I returned to my table, sipped my cappuccino, broke the last third fortune cookie in half, and read the inscription: “Everything you can imagine is real”

I closed the file with the summary and started writing my first book. Since then, letters, words, and sentences have become a big part of my life.