dvldixon​

 It’s sort of rare, that they take times out of their day to do anything that isn’t working or something to do with the kids. Their life is so wrapped up in those things that they don’t quite remember the last time they just took a walk.  

 Sebastian ponders the question some more, and Mattie walks alongside them, a cup of coffee warming their hands in the cool  New York winter weather.  Mattie isn’t sure he himself needs, or really wants to be liked. Despite what their job may entail, being liked by the public simply to sell books and food and all of that, but in reality, they couldn’t possibly care any less of every person they met liked them or not.  They were just used to being annoyingly charming. 

 “You’re a therapist, what is it with praise kinks then?” they tease, although, well, it would be an interesting conversation any other time “I think I’d rather be feared than liked. People can learn to like me, but if they’re afraid of me first, that sets a tone I rather like.”

            ❝  some  people  enjoy  being  validated  in  the  bedroom.  ❞  what  better  than  a  sexual  ego  boost  ??  plainly  stated  enough,  ahmad  hadn’t  missed  a  beat  within  the  conversation.  a  sip  is  drawn  from  his  warmed  cup,  clearing  his  throat  before  continuing  onward.  a  crescent  grin  flicks  upward  at  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  cutting  his  gaze  over  to  the  other.  ❝  well,  considering  your  current  image,  i  find  it  difficult  to  believe  that  fear  would  work  in  your  favor.  ❞  

           all  things  considered,  especially  regarding  the  upkeep  of  appearances,  ahmad  couldn’t  particularly  consider  himself  fond  of  such  a  mindset.  (  though  it  was  perspectives  such  as  this  that  kept  him  in  business  all  these  years.  )  even  so,  some  glimmer  in  the  back  on  ahmad’s  mind  concurred.  fear  had  it’s  purpose.  ❝  though,  i  guess  you  don’t  have  to  be  much  of  a  saint  to  be  a  chef  much  less  an  entrepreneur.  so  long  as  you’re  giving  people  what  they  want,  i  suppose  the  delivery  isn’t  accounted  for.  ❞

                                                      𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊

pinterest •  stats  •  biography

not  everyone  can  say  they’ve  been  to  the  big  apple,  but  AHMAD  RAHMANI, a  FORTY  year  old  CIS  MALE  has  lived  in  BROOKLYN  for  NEARLY  TEN  YEARS.  this  is  the  city  of  dreams  and  HE  knows  it,  because  they  came  to  nyc  to  be  a  PSYCHOTHERAPIST.  well,  that  and  as  the  THE  THERAPIST.  living  in  the  city  means  they  meet  all  kinds  of  people,  but  everyone  always  seems  to  think  they  look  like  RIZ  AHMED.  they  even  got  away  with  free  cab  fare  once  because  of  it  !! 

                                                     𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐄.

Riz Ahmed ©Taylor Rainbolt // Esquire UK

            ❝  that’s  quite  alright.  it’s  always  a  pleasure  to  squeeze  in  client  when  possible.  ❞  admittedly,  it  was  no  sweat  off  his  back.  his  previously  scheduled  client  had  phoned  him  earlier  in  the  day  claiming  they  wouldn’t  be  able  to  make  it  to  the  appointment.  &&  while  sebastian  hadn’t  made  a  habit  on  judging  them  on  their  reasoning,  it  was  a  safe  assumption  that  they  likely  would  NOT  be  returning  in  the  future.  thus,  the  vacancy  in  his  schedule  gave  him  a  few  passing  moments  of  reflection  —  what  went  wrong  ??  how  could  he  have  BETTERED  the  experience  for  his  client  ??  —  if  they  held  their  end  of  his  imagined  bargain,  baz  would  likely  forward  the  passive  thoughts  in  an  email  to  them.  nonetheless,  for  every  client  that  hadn’t  made  their  appointment,  it  seemed  two  more  rose  in  their  place,  &&  dr.  moreno  upheld  the  standard.  

            her  PROLONGED  explanation  was  reason  enough  for  baz  to  concur  on  the  fact  that  the  visit  was  made  in  haste  for  a  reason.  thus,  he  doesn’t  waste  much  time  with  stalling  their  session.  ❝  please  —  have  a  seat,  i  can’t  even  begin  to  imagine  how  long  you’ve  been  on  your  feet  handling  your  patients.  ❞  palm  is  gestured  flat  toward  the  pair  of  chairs  perched  opposite  to  his  desk,  before  proceeding  to  his  own  seat.  it  was  both  a  blessing  &&  a  curse  to  DEVOTE  yourself  to  others,  and  it  was  a  feeling  baz  knew  TOO  well.  he  often  spent  his  evenings,  and  onward  into  the  night  in  his  office,  tabbing  through  olden  files,  journals,  books  —  anything  to  offer  him  closure.  thus,  it  felt  like  a  necessity  to  inquire  about  her  work.  ❝  how  are  you  handling  that  ??  the  work  load  i  mean.  i  believe  we  spoke  about  work-life  balance  in  our  previous  meeting  so  i’m  curious  to  hear  how  you’ve  adapted  what  we  talked  about  into  your  personal  life.  ❞  if  at  all.  sebastian  couldn’t  fault  her  if  she  relented  to  take  his  advice  &&  apply  it  to  her  personal  life.  it  wasn’t  his  job  to  ENFORCE  but  to  offer  the  best  guidance  he  could,  even  if  that  meant  he  was  wasting  his  breath  at  times.

Violeta was in so many ways an incredibly closed off person. She prized her position as a surgeon above move other things which meant she spent every waking moment thinking about work - often to the determent of her mental health. Couple that with the trauma she’d endured growing up the whole thing had ended up coming to a head that forced her hand when it came to getting professional help. Especially when she had found out she was pregnant with her twin daughters and her life was no longer just her own. As someone who cared for children everyday as a profession she knew she owed the same level of care to her own kids, which was why she started going to weekly therapy sessions. It wasn’t something she shared with many people, obviously her husband Matthieu knew about it, but that was pretty much where the list of people ended. Well, and her therapist Sebastian of course.

She knew when she stepped into his office she was able to be vulnerable, to a point, because doctor patient confidentiality was playing in her favour. Plus the city was so huge the chances of him ever crossing paths with any of the members of her life she mentioned were slim to none. Sitting in his waiting room she glanced up from her phone every couple of seconds, ever aware that someone she knew could walk in at any moment, which would be the worst possible situation. She believed it would undermine her reputation as a medical professional which of course wasn’t fact, but her brain refused to let her think otherwise. Her foot tapped repeatedly on the floor as her fingers did the same on the screen of her iPhone, never liking being away from the hospital for anything that wasn’t related to her children and therefore something she deemed essential. Her own medical care ironically didn’t fall into that category in the same way.

“Dr Moreno? The doctor is ready for you know.” A polite but average looking receptionist informed her with a automatic smile that was entirely passive. Poor woman was probably bored to tears. Violeta would be if she had that job. Scooping up her handbag carefully she clicked through the door on her heels with a professional smile, closing it behind her. “Thank you for seeing me on short notice, my schedule at the hospital was changed because of a surgical emergency and I didn’t want to have to pass one of my patients off to another surgeon. It’s important they have consistency even if they don’t fully understand that.” She explained to Sebastian. “I do hope you understand.” @ofwindts​ 

               a  nod  is  offered  over  to  the  woman  as  she  sat  herself  across  from  him.  while  she  got  her  things  arranged,  sebastian  took  a  sip  of  his  coffee,  the  roasted  flavor  offering  his  tastebuds  TEMPORARY  satisfaction.  the  man  offered  an  adjoined  chuckle,  something  that  resounded  from  the  back  of  his  throat  as  he  lowered  the  sleeved  cup  back  down.  sebastian  swatted  away  her  words,  he  was  the  one  to  offer  the  seat  after  all.  ❝  it’s  no  problem  at  all,  i  didn’t  half  expect  it  to  be  so  crowded  in  here  myself.  consider  it  my  first  good  deed  of  the  day.  ❞  he’d  made  a  habit  of  going  out  of  his  way  to  help  others.  mostly  out  of  graciousness,  SURE,  but  baz  also  considered  it  to  count  toward  his  good  karma  &&  he  could  use  all  the  help  he  could  get.  ❝  shame  on  me  for  trying  something  new,  right  ??  ❞  he  half  joked,  a  grin  teasing  at  the  corner  of  his  lips.

TWO’S COMPANY.

for:  open  to  all. 

where:  coffeehouse  in  manhattan,  midday. 

𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙜𝙤𝙙,if  it  never  snowed  again  in  this  ever-fleeting  city  it  wouldn’t  be  soon  enough  for  sebastian.  in  his  minds  eye  —  or  perhaps  what  sebastian  could  recollect  —  maine  winters  DULLED  in  comparison  to  the  past  ten  the  man  had  spent  in  new  york.  maine  was  childhoods  spent  ice-fishing  &&  toasting  marshmallows  at  the  foot  of  his  fathers  old  recliner  while  new  york  had  proven  itself  to  be  nothing  but  a  black-iced  metropolis  that  brimmed  on  the  remnants  of  holiday  cheer  and  EXUBERANCE  home  sweet  home  or  something  like  that.  

            winter-chapped  palms  find  temporary  SOLACE  in  the  depths  of  his  overcoat  pockets;  perhaps  this  was  the  one  time  the  man  regretted  not  putting  the  gloves  his  younger  sister  gifted  him  for  christmas  to  good  use.  narrowed  sights  skim  the  muddled  horizon  for  any  sight  of  salvation,  and  the  sight  beckons  him  clear  as  day.  a  coffee  shop  perched  on  the  corner  of  tenth  avenue  &&  104th  street.  though  signs  of  a  FLOWERED  spring  slowly  chipped  away  at  the  white  city,  it  seems  sebastian’s  pace  only  quickened  at  the  sight  of  the  self-proclaimed  beacon.  reeled  from  his  linted  pockets  palms  rub  together,  FRICTIONING  a  makeshift  warmth  before  the  man  inevitably  happened  upon  the  entrance  of  the  mom  &&  pop  shop.  amid  the  newfound  slew  of  naturalist  cafes  and  buzzfeed  millennial  price  gouges,  it  was  a  simple  pleasure  to  cross  an  establishment  that  fought  tooth  and  nail  to  maintain  their  desired  spot  on  the  block  corner.  

                ducking  in  moments  later,  fingers  are  ran  haphazardly  through  his  WIND-TOUSLED  mane  &&  the  order  of  a  black  coffee  and  ham  and  cheese  croissant  followed  suit.  retrieving  his  order,  the  man  savored  his  recess  from  work  with  at  one  of  the  few  remaining  window  seats.  nearly  INSTANTANIOUSLY  tearing  into  his  warmed  pastry  as  if  he  had  been  starved  in  the  days  prior.  meal  partially  indulged,  sebastian  took  to  watching  the  throng  of  patrons  that  filtered  in  &&  out  of  the  eatery,  journaling  any  passing  thoughts  in  the  meantime.  alas,  the  poor  soul  that  seemed  to  fleet  from  one  end  of  the  establishment  to  the  other  in  no  avail  of  finding  a  seat  caught  the  man’s  eye.  ❝  ⸻  hey,  ❞  a  hand  is  gently  waved  in  the  stranger’s  direction  &&  a  silent  prayer  is  made  in  hopes  he  wouldn’t  eat  his  words  following  the  offer,  ❝  need  a  seat  ??  ❞

Does your character have next-door neighbors? Who are they?

yes! to the left of seb's brownstone resides an elderly couple that have likely been residing on the block for the better half of fifty years && to his right resides a throng of people that baz can only presume to be roommates — all starkly different, but fairly vibrant in their own ways.

What Hogwarts house feels closest to your character?

baz is definitely a hufflepuff through & through!

for:  @milainmanhattan

where:  the  sweetest  thing  bakery

having  been  understaffed,  sebastian  offered  his  AMATEUR  services  to  mila  in  hopes  she  would  accept.  considering  the  fulfilment  of  his  wishes  —  that  were  more  likely  an  excuse  to  spend  time  with  her  —  baz  had  been  hard  at  work  since  earlier  that  morning  taste  testing  new  recipes  &&  lending  a  hand  where  he  could.  in  the  present  moment,  baz  had  been  giving  his  best  ATTEMPT  at  kneading  a  mound  of  sourdough.  even  with  what  little  staff  she  had  on  hand,  they  were  likely  better  off  without  the  help  of  a  man  who  was  nearly  culinarily  inept.  ❝  you  know  mila,  as  much  as  i  know  you  enjoy  my  presence  —  if  you  wanted  to  see  more  of  me  you  could  have  just  said  so.  ❞  his  cornflower  gaze  diverted  from  the  balled  dough  for  a  moment  to  meet  her  own,  his  trademark  smug  grin  teasing  at  either  corner  of  his  lips.

Sum up your character in 3 verbs.

promise, lost, understand.

who:  @bcllet

where:  sebastian’s  office

          in  his  line  of  work,  it  was  par  the  course  to  TEETER  the  balance  to  be  had  with  some  of  his  patients  &&  mr.  sandoval  happened  to  be  one  of  them.  not  a  face  seen  often  enough  to  be  called  a  regular,  baz  had  counseled  with  the  other  only  a  handful  of  times  before  it  was  decided  that  they  were  an  IMPERFECT  match.  sebastian  made  it  his  mission  to  never  rule  out  his  patients,  but  this  occurrence  was  on  the  off  chance  that  his  client  beat  him  to  the  punch  —  proclaiming  time  and  time  again  that  he  would  source  therapy  elsewhere  but  always  somehow  found  himself  seated  at  sebastian’s  desk  at  the  end  of  the  month.  it  became  something  of  an  ill  routine,  and  thus,  baz  wasn’t  the  least  bit  SURPRISED  to  have  the  man  seated  adjacent  from  him.  only  now  had  he  wished  for  something  other  than  the  drumming  of  a  pen  along  the  side  of  his  desk  &&  a  melodic  jazz  tune  playing  overhead  to  fill  the silence  that  buffered  between  them.

          stubbled  cheek  leant  upon  a  partially  curled  fist  propped  atop  of  the  desk,  sebastian  looked  onward  to  his  client  with  an  aimless  gaze  —  as  if  to  insinuate  his  wanting  for  something  more  without  outright  stating  so.  not  until  he  cleared  his  throat  &&  leant  forward  slightly  in  his  seat.  ❝   as  i’m  sure  you’re  aware  mr.  sandoval,  it’s  my  job  as  your  therapist  to  make  our  meetings  conducive  of  introspective  thinking.  ❞  the  words  are  cast  over  another  short  break  of  quiet  before  the  man  bothers  to  speak  a  moment  later.   ❝   and  i  can  only  assume  you’ve  come  here  for  reasons  other  than  to  sit  in  silence.  so,  would  you  like  to  discuss  what  those  might  be  —  or  would  you  prefer  to  spend  the  next  fifty  minutes  starring  at  each  other  ??  ❞

for:  @hanacinnyc​

where:  some  plush  manhattan  restaurant.

            sebastian  had  been  sprawled  across  the  length  of  his  second-hand  couch  when  he  received  the  first  ping.  to  which  he  attempted  to  ignore  by  squeezing  already  shut  eyes  tighter,  the  second  notification  that  buzzed  from  his  phone  FINALLY  beckoned  the  man.  arm  outstretched,  the  gadget  was  retrieved  from  the  coffee  table,  &&  his  gaze  narrowed  against  the  BLINDING  haze  of  the  screen.  it  was  a  short  string  of  texts  from  one  of  the  many  friends  he’d  amassed  during  his  time  in  the  big  apple,  and  he  made  haste  in  responding  to  her.  frankly  he  hadn’t  absorbed  the  bulk  of  the  blurb  she  spammed  him  within  the  minute  interval,  but  from  what  SLEEP-DULLED  wits  could  concur,  she  was  in  need  of  a  savior  from  her  currently  failed  tinder  date.  

             the  blatant  ' SOS ’  smoke  signals  that  followed  the  description  of  her  online  date  was  all  the  rationale  baz  needed  to  pull  on  a  socially  acceptable  outfit  &&  bound  northward.  hailing  a  cab  at  this  time  of  day  was  no  easy  feat  but  it  was  to  catching  the  subway  which  was  more  likely  to  prolong  the  trip.  that  was  sebastian  though.  he  gave  himself  WHOLLY  to  his  friends,  especially  when  in  need  —  even  in  the  middle  of  a  forest  gump  rerun.  ducking  into  the  establishment,  baz  wavered  the  aid  of  the  host  with  the  insistence  that  he  had  arrived  to  meet  a  friend,  rather  than  to  fulfill  a  reservation.  overcoat  still  hung  from  his  frame,  the  man  followed  the  lead  of  one  of  the  many  overdressed  waitresses  to  his  friend’s  tableside.

            ❝  ⸻  OKAY  first  off,  ❞  baz  started  up,  index  pointed  in  her  direction  as  if  to  assert  some  feigned  air  of  dominance,  ❝  you  owe  me  32  dollars  in  cab  fare.  ❞  he  hadn’t  much  bothered  to  question  hana’s  mystery  date,  rather  concluding  that  he’d  wondered  off  to  the  bathroom.  lowering  the  gesture,  momentarily  idle  digits  busy  fishing  a  roll  from  the  bread  basket.  if  sebastian  was  going  to  practically  arise  mid  nap  only  to  be  UNDERDRESSED  amid  the  evening  flock  of  wall  street  somethings  &&   bohemians,  he  would  at  least  leave  with  something.  jaw  working  on  a  bite  of  the  buttered  roll,  sebastian  finally  offered  hana  a  sympathetic  look. ❝  now,  are  we  going  leave  before  your  prince  charming  comes  back  or  did  i  spend  five  minutes  hailing  a  cab  for  nothing  ??  ❞  

for:  @dvldixon​

where:  central  park,  around  3  pm.

                ‘  DO  I  NEED  TO  BE  LIKED  ??’  the  question  had  been  posed  by  the  other  as  some  sort  of  causative  rhetorical.  that  of  which  sebastian  could  only  offer  a  flicker  of  a  grin  toward  as  he  took  a  mouthful  of  his  coffee.  ❝  do  i  need  to  be  liked  . .  ❞  he  mused  as  he  echoed  the  inquiry.  in  any  other  situation,  his  answer  would  be  a  resounding  no.  sebastian  did  not  in  fact  NEED  to  be  liked.  but,  he  humored  the  question  for  the  sake  of  conversation.  ❝  well,  i  like  to  be  liked.  i  enjoy  being  liked.  ❞  (  perhaps  some  inch  of  him  buried  within  the  depths  of  his  conscience  yearned  for  it.  )  sebastian  had  to  be  LIKED.  ❝  but  it’s  not  like  this  compulsive  need  to  be  liked,  y’know  ??  take  my  need  to  be  praised  for  instance.  ❞  the  matter-of-the-fact  retortion  is  sealed  with  a  light  chuckle  as  the  man  took  another  sip,  not  missing  a  beat  as  he  continued  to  walk  alongside  matt.

seasonal aesthetics.    —  by dismaymemes. bold what applies to your muse.                      for : ahmad .

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑.    a chill right down to the bones.   tobogganing.   teeth chattering.   sleeping all day. sitting by the fireplace.   spending time with family.    layered clothing.   seeing another’s breath.   loving the cold.   a state of inactivity.   cold hands.  blistering winds shaking the closed windows.   a bookcase full of brand new books and all of the time in the world to read them.  cable knit socks.   a bitter remark.  a log cabin in the middle of nowhere.   hating the cold.  full-length windows to peer out of.  pale skin.   deep conversations. watching the snow fall. sharp edges. hot cocoa.   smelling every candle in the store.  a wild snow storm. melancholy. lighting candles around the bathtub.  snow globes.  expressing yourself but never finding quite the right words. the softest of blankets.   liking, but not loving something or someone.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆.    the smell after it rains. being in control of yourself. a soft breeze blowing your hair. lightning when it strikes. cherry blossoms. bright mornings. the first sign of hope. the relief of finding something you lost.  paris in the spring. birds chirping. the art of growing.  a kiss on the cheek. the clap of thunder.  a tornado in the valley.  smiling at a stranger. planning. saccharine pinks.  making promises. trying something new. hugs when you need them most.     a bee sting.      sitting on the steps of the met.      coming inside drenched from the thunderstorm.  picnics on a red checkered blanket in the new sun.   that feeling you get when you put on a good dress. a long hike. rushing when you can take your time. going to the gym/training at ungodly hours. excitement for what’s coming. becoming yourself.  rain boots.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑.    lanterns lit around a campfire.   seeing the sunrise like it’s the first time again and again. melting ice cream. the warmth of sun rays upon skin. fireworks. the feeling of never wanting something to end. beach days.      the lone blow up floaty left in the pool.      drifting with the warm nights breeze and nothing else. music blasting at 3am,  loud and proud.     palms trees on sunset boulevard.     longer days and shorter nights.  wanderlust.  nights spent staring at the stars.  sand castles.  road trips.   blood orange sunsets. leaving the laundry to hang outside. flowers in bloom.  sneaking out of your room late at night.  pure contentment. barefoot in the sand.    the street lights coming on.   the sound of the ocean in a seashell.  freshly squeezed lemonade. loose clothing.  a cannonball into the pool. sunflowers. the hazy pink before dusk.   relaxation.

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋.    the leaves changing colors.  a heavy backpack. the smell of old books. eating until you’re stuffed. deep, dark woods.   the silence in loudness ( the loudness in silence ).   abandoned houses.    ripped jeans. crunching leaves beneath feet.  feeling like you’ve been somewhere before.  sitting at a bay window. having endless amount of work.  charcoal drawings.  screaming into a pillow as loud as you can.    pumpkin patches. creaky floorboards.   accepting that some things do have to change.   museums.     small talk.   being ignored.  procrastinating.   a door slamming shut.   going to bed early.  baking pies.   the fear of walking alone in the dark. feeling completely and terribly lost.  a twig snapping. crisp, cool days. belly laughter after crying. converse. foggy mornings at the shoreline. writing a daily entry in a journal. a lonely day.

for:  @itsdelilahroche​

where:  sebastian’s  office

                sebastian  took  comfort  in  the  STINT  of  quiet  found  between  the  exchange  of  clients  —  that  of  which  volume  had  increased  substantially  since  the  exposé  that  seb  had  been  so  willfully  exempt  from.  nonetheless,  he  felt  a  PROFOUND  sense  of  empathy  for  those  whom  fell  victim  to  the  publicized  event.  slouched  upon  the  comfortably  worn  material  of  his  office  chair,  sebastian  craned  his  neck,  head  rested  upon  the  headrest.  a  short  sigh  gracing  his  lips,  he'd  allow  himself  to  laze  for  a  MOMENT  longer  before  straightening  his  posture  once  more  —  digits  sent  combing  through  his  tawny  head  of  curls  as  he  came  forth.

                a  moment  or  so  passed  before  the  distant  MUTTERING  —  which  sebastian  could  have  only  made  out  to  be  someone  being  buzzed  into  the  office  —  becomes  audible.  an  EARSHOT  that  is  closely   followed  by  the  blithe  voice  of  the  office's  newly  hired  secretary,  rebecca.  unlike  the  rest  of  the  staff,  sebastian  had  made  the  effort  to  get  to  know  her  name,  much  less  REMEMBER  it.  though  a  small  step  in  getting  her  to  feel  more  at  home  in  the  relatively  sterile  environment,  it  was  one  he  was  willing  to  take.  

                with  a  knock  offered  to  the  frosted  pane  of  his  office  door,  the  secretary  halted  before  opening  it.  ❝  dr.  windt  —  your  12  o’clock.  ❞  neglecting  to  spare  another  word,  the  secretary  stepped  aside  and  allowed  the  patient  entry.  sebastian  was  a  man  CONTENT  with  his  job  and  thus,  he  was  pleased  whenever  any  of  his  regulars  decided  to  schedule  an  appointment  with  him.  but  he  knew  that  could  only  mean  ONE  of  two  things:  either  the  wrongness  in  their  lives  had  reared  it’s  head  once  more,  or  they  could  use  the  company.  he  chose  to  rely  on  the  former  in  most  cases.  the  man  cannot  help  but  to  harbor  his  usually  'HAPPY  TO  SEE  YOU,  BUT  WHY  ARE  YOU  REALLY  HERE’  look   —  lips  tweaked  upward  at  either  corner  accompanied  by  subtle  eye  contact.  ❝  it’s  been  what  .  .  a  week  or  two  since  our  last  session  ??  tell  me,  how  have  you  been.  ❞  the  brunette  rehomed  himself  behind  the  comfort  of  his  mahogany  desk,  allowing  the  other  to  seat  herself  across  from  him.

TWO’S COMPANY.

for:  open  to  all. 

where:  coffeehouse  in  manhattan,  midday. 

            𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙜𝙤𝙙,  if  it  never  snowed  again  in  this  ever-fleeting  city  it  wouldn’t  be  soon  enough  for  ahmad.  in  his  minds  eye  —  or  perhaps  what  ahmad  could  recollect  —  maine  winters  DULLED  in  comparison  to  the  past  ten  the  man  had  spent  in  new  york.  maine  was  childhoods  spent  ice-fishing  &&  toasting  marshmallows  at  the  foot  of  his  fathers  old  recliner  while  new  york  had  proven  itself  to  be  nothing  but  a  black-iced  metropolis  that  brimmed  on  the  remnants  of  holiday  cheer  and  EXUBERANCE  home  sweet  home  or  something  like  that.  

            winter-chapped  palms  find  temporary  SOLACE  in  the  depths  of  his  overcoat  pockets;  perhaps  this  was  the  one  time  the  man  regretted  not  putting  the  gloves  his  younger  sister  gifted  him  for  christmas  to  good  use.  narrowed  sights  skim  the  muddled  horizon  for  any  sight  of  salvation,  and  the  sight  beckons  him  clear  as  day.  a  coffee  shop  perched  on  the  corner  of  tenth  avenue  &&  104th  street.  though  signs  of  a  FLOWERED  spring  slowly  chipped  away  at  the  white  city,  it  seems  ahmad’s  pace  only  quickened  at  the  sight  of  the  self-proclaimed  beacon.  reeled  from  his  linted  pockets  palms  rub  together,  FRICTIONING  a  makeshift  warmth  before  the  man  inevitably  happened  upon  the  entrance  of  the  mom  &&  pop  shop.  amid  the  newfound  slew  of  naturalist  cafes  and  buzzfeed  millennial  price  gouges,  it  was  a  simple  pleasure  to  cross  an  establishment  that  fought  tooth  and  nail  to  maintain  their  desired  spot  on  the  block  corner.  

                ducking  in  moments  later,  fingers  are  ran  haphazardly  through  his  WIND-TOUSLED  mane  &&  the  order  of  a  black  coffee  and  ham  and  cheese  croissant  followed  suit.  retrieving  his  order,  the  man  savored  his  recess  from  work  with  at  one  of  the  few  remaining  window  seats.  nearly  INSTANTANIOUSLY  tearing  into  his  warmed  pastry  as  if  he  had  been  starved  in  the  days  prior.  meal  partially  indulged,  ahmad  took  to  watching  the  throng  of  patrons  that  filtered  in  &&  out  of  the  eatery,  journaling  any  passing  thoughts  in  the  meantime.  alas,  the  poor  soul  that  seemed  to  fleet  from  one  end  of  the  establishment  to  the  other  in  no  avail  of  finding  a  seat  caught  the  man’s  eye.  ❝  ⸻  hey,  ❞  a  hand  is  gently  waved  in  the  stranger’s  direction  &&  a  silent  prayer  is  made  in  hopes  he  wouldn’t  eat  his  words  following  the  offer,  ❝  need  a  seat  ??  ❞