Date: March 5, 2012
Time: 11:20 am
Location: Starbucks/145 Street/Harlem, New York
I frequent several Starnucks throughout the week, listening to cliché soul music while procrastinating on my debut novel. Today, I decided on the Starbucks closest to my place.
I’m here right now, minding my business, in the midst of writing a brand new post for you all, when all of a sudden this happens:
There’s a guy sitting at a table nearby, and as he gets up to walk towards the back where the restrooms are, he puts down his business card on my table, information side down. Of course this is peculiar to me, and I don’t know why he would do such a thing because I haven’t been talking to anyone, I haven’t looked in his direction. I’ve been writing. Like I said, minding my business.
I turn the business card over anyway. On the card his cell number is circled, with the following words written above an arrow pointing to the circle: