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Sadness makes you a better writer. While you wallow in your self-deprecating feelings and sorrow that make you introspective and hate the world, sadness also pushes a writer to do what they do best. Because as a general rule, writers are introspective and express their feelings by pouring them over a page instead of speaking out loud. As a writer myself, I have always found it that much easier to express myself through written words than speak out my mind.

Sadness, however, had been eating me alive and I had to push it out of me before I went mad. So that’s exactly where this story begins. My name is Julia and I am a writer. I am also a 25-year-old journalist who had been mad at the world for the past few months and I had also seemed to have struck a really tough bout of bad luck – hence the sadness. Nothing had really worked out for me since January and I’d just about had it with the world and with my life.

I spent my days at work and the weekends at home because my so called friends had suddenly all made a great disappearing act. Sometimes I think that maybe I’m just so socially awkward that people just plain didn’t want to be around me anymore. Which doesn’t make any sense, because up until last December I had great friends who I hung out with on a regular basis and knew I could always count on. So now that they have all apparently deserted me, I turned to my one and only comfort in times of sorrow: writing.

I love writing fiction as it allows me to create a different world in which I can lose myself into and focus solely on my characters’ lives instead of my own pathetic little life. The thing is I haven’t been able to create much for the past couple of years, reasons unknown. I had reached my creative peak a couple of years back, when I was dealing with a tough period in my life. And that is exactly where my theory comes in. I felt sad, then, and that feeling eating me up pushed me to write and focus on something else. So right now I am determined to prove that theory right again.

So I tried to write, but all the other characters I had created in the past few years kept whispering in my ears, preventing me from creating new ones. And that just left me stuck with one huge writer’s block. Which sucked.

One day I decided I had had enough and went out for a walk around town. There is a lot that New York can offer, but the down side is that you’re just another face in the crowd. And when you don’t stand out, you end up living like me.

Or not. Maybe that’s just me.

Either way, I walked around town for a few hours with no real destination in mind. My only goal was staying away from home and its claustrophobic walls. After spending a good half-hour window shopping, I stepped into this little coffee shop that looked invisible enough that would prevent me from running into any acquaintances. Maybe that was why I had been so friendless lately, if I kept fleeing from other people’s company. But when you’re in the state of sadness I had been in then you just don’t want people meddling with your life and asking if you’re okay. Clearly you’re not okay and if you haven’t mentioned anything about it voluntarily, then that probably means you don’t want to talk about your stupid feelings and just want people to leave you the hell alone.

So that was my one objective when I went into this dingy coffee shop with my laptop. I just wanted to sit down, drink a good cappuccino and dive into whatever fictional world my imagination decided to take me to next. I particularly enjoyed fantasy and science fiction because that could take me the farthest away from reality. I also loved to read and write about epic love stories because that looked like it wasn’t going to happen in my life anytime soon, so at least I got to live through my fictional characters.

Sure I had had flings and explosive encounters from time to time, but none of them seemed to really be that crazy love you read about in novels. Maybe that did only happen in fairytales. So while I hadn’t lost all hope in finding the great love of my life, it was in the back of my mind for the moment. In that particular time of my life, I just wanted this stupid sadness to go away.

I ordered my cappuccino and sat down at the most reclusive booth in the place and set my laptop ready for work. The waitress soon brought over my drink and I took a sip, savoring in the warmth going down my throat in such a cold and dreary day. It had stopped snowing, but the cold was still intense in New York. For now, however, I turned my attention back to the task at hand. I had decided to write about magic and witches and wizards in a conflicted world just for the hell of it. Magic had always been a favorite of mine and I do admit to this day I still wished I could have gone to Hogwarts instead of the boring public high school I attended as a teenager.

Just when I was getting into the story and setting up my new characters, I got the distinct impression that I was being watched. I looked around searching for my admirer – or stalker – and sure enough, there he was, sitting in the booth in front of me, blatantly staring at me. I raised my eyebrows at him and ran a hand through my hair self-consciously. It was not that I wasn’t used to being admired by the opposite sex, but not so obviously. I wouldn’t consider myself the prettiest girl in the room, but I also liked to think that I had my perks. I had slightly curly dark hair, blue eyes and was a little on the short side. My friends used to say I looked like a fairy right out of a children’s book, but I wasn’t so sure that that particular trait was attractive to men.

Either way, the guy sitting in front of me seemed to have seen something he liked or was at least intrigued by because he didn’t even flinch when I caught him staring at me. He had clear, striking blue eyes, framed by dark glasses and light brown hair with a slight reddish tinge to it. He was cute in a geeky sort of way. I felt my neck get warm with the blush coming up my face and looked down, embarrassed. When I looked up again, he was smiling. I couldn’t help but smile back shyly.

When he didn’t make any other move, I chose to go back to my story. Taking another sip of my cappuccino, I dove right back into the mystical world I was creating. Just as I was delegating magical powers to my characters, I felt someone looking at me again. This time, I didn’t have to look far; he was standing right next to my booth, looking at me sheepishly.

“Mind if I sit down?” he asked with a small smile. He was a lot cuter up close; that I had to admit.

“Sure, go ahead.” I motioned for him to sit and closed my laptop. There goes my fantastic idea for a story, I thought, annoyed.

He slid into the booth and looked down for a moment.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to.” He said after a few seconds in silence.

“That’s okay.” I shook my head, dismissing it.

“It’s just… I didn’t expect you to be so beautiful.” He almost whispered and I almost choked on my coffee.

“Excuse me?” I coughed and tried to get my breath back. Just who the hell was this guy?

“I’m sorry, Julia. I didn’t even introduce myself. That was rude.”

“Whoa, wait right there. How do you know my name? Who are you?” I asked, frantically looking around the shop for someone to help me in case this guy tried to hurt me.

He chuckled at my mild panic attack and touched my hand. I felt something warm shoot straight up my arm and spread throughout my body.

“Don’t worry. I’m a friend and I am not here to harm you in any way.” He smiled and let go of my hand, but the warm feeling stayed with me. I didn’t say anything and waited for him to continue. “My name is Jacob Allen and I have been looking for you for a while now.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re hitting on me.” I narrowed my eyes at him and he laughed.

“I’m not, trust me. Not that you don’t deserve it.” He added after a second. “But no, I really have been looking for you. You’re very important, you know that?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, confused.

“You’re special, Julia. You have… abilities that no one else in this world has and because of that you’re very important.”

“Abilities? What kind of abilities?” This guy was so yanking my chain, but I decided to humor him.

“Well, the best definition in this world would be that you’re a witch.” He said calmly and I burst out laughing. He looked at me, the picture of seriousness until I stopped laughing my head off.

“Me? A witch?” A chuckle escaped from my lips. “You’ve got the wrong girl, pal. Sorry. Do girls actually fall for that story?”

“Julia, please listen to me. This is serious. I would never lie to you!” He touched my hand and I felt that surge of warmth again and gasped.

“You don’t even know me!” I exclaimed and pulled my hand back from his grasp. This was going way too far already. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

“You felt it, didn’t you? When I touched you? You felt it, I know you did.” He smiled when my eyes widened. “That’s the power inside of you. It recognizes your own kind.”

He touched my hand again and there it was, spreading through my body. It wasn’t unpleasant, just… odd.

“Who are you?” I asked suspiciously. He squeezed my hand and smiled. I felt strangely comforted by that.

“My name is Jacob Allen and I am your magic counselor.”

“You’re kidding.” I shook my head, laughing nervously. “What is this, am I being Punk’d? Where are the cameras?” I looked around, searching for any hidden devices and Jacob looked at me thoroughly confused.

“What are you talking about?” his forehead creased in confusion and for some unknown reason, I knew he genuinely didn’t have a clue of what I was talking about.

“Jacob – if that’s even your real name – you can’t be serious.” He opened his mouth to interrupt, but I held my hand up, stopping him. “No, really. Look, I’m as much into magic as the next girl. Probably more, actually. I’m a writer, magic is my thing. But it’s also fiction. It’s not real.”

He looked at me through narrowed eyes for a few seconds, thinking. Then he casually looked around and, apparently satisfied that there was no one near by to listen to us or see anything, gently touched my almost empty cup of coffee. I raised my eyebrows at him and he smirked, revealing my now full cup of steaming cappuccino.

My eyes widened and an involuntary gasp of surprise escaped my lips. I looked up at him, then back at the full cup – it smelled so good; I honestly thought he added just a tad more of cinnamon – and back at him again, opening and closing my mouth like a dying fish.

“Now you tell me that that’s not real.” He grinned and lazily leaned back against the back of the chair.

~*~