to yourself, you decide to take some time and just look around you as you see people darting from left to right looking down at their phones or their feet making their way to there next destination.
Realizing that was you just moments ago you start to think back at that shop and then if by asking him to leave, the van driver pulls away out of his parking space and the sun shines again on the shop. It almost looks like its lit up a path heading straight towards the shop door.
Looking a little closer you realize its not a shop, after all, it’s a house that’s been squashed between two buildings and has an oldie sweet shop feel to it.
With mounting interest, you wonder why you’ve never seen this before.
Without a second thought, you begin to cross the street following the lit path and time feels like it’s stood still.
The hustle and bustle of the street have calmed, and with it, the traffic and a sense of calmness shroud your entire body. So much so you begin to feel your being carried across the street.
You’re now back on the other side of the street from where you came and standing before you is, in fact, an old Victorian red-bricked building.
Walking closer towards the bay window its curves coming out from both sides. You can see through the dark muted blue-painted window frames a seat of about 20inches taking up the entire window span.
Darting your eyes from one squared pane of glass to another you soak up the views from inside this house.
There is a bookshelf spanning the entire wall behind a big cozy armchair that has a subtle designed cream-colored cushion resting on its side. A side lamp is on and stands on a highly polished round side table.
The familiarity of this place keeps you poised, staring at the windows and wondering why?
You see someone coming from deep inside the house, and you move back a few steps away from the window.
The person inside has seen you standing there and is coming towards the door.
You start to walk away and move past the front door. The dark muted blue of the solid wooden door gives a beautiful contrast to the highly polished decorative doorknob and fingerplate.
An old shop bell sounds as the front door opens and a waft of freshly brewed coffee escapes into the street.
‘Hi’ she says with a contagious smile.
‘Hi’ you reply back a little confused.
‘I knew you would come, I’ve just made some coffee would you like one?’ she says.
A moment of hesitation because you don’t know this person, but you feel completely welcomed by them you find yourself saying.
‘Yes please, that would be lovely.’
She opens the door wider to let you in, and with her right-hand offers you a chair in front of the fireplace.
Greeted by the two dogs sniffing the street air on your clothes. You walk on a polished wooden floor towards the chair, and as you approach the fireplace, you feel its warmth on your legs.
Looking around, you realize that this was, in fact, an old shop.
The lady comes back with your coffee and a plate of biscuits and places them on the table next to you.
She brings her mug of coffee and sits opposite you on the other sofa and says.
‘You will never find time for anything unless you make it.
My names Michele and welcome to my home.’
‘You don’t write because you want to say something, you write because you have something to say.’
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