Frederick loves his phone. He knows that's not special, but...it's his thing. He never claimed to be unique. He can interact with the outside world that doesn't involve his father and the pressure he puts on him. He can have a minute to laugh at memes in between funerals and meetings with grieving families. It gives him a moment to breathe. What could be better than that?
She keeps her whole world safe inside a Coach Tote bag, 50 by 30 cm of polished pebble leather. Perfect to hold her tech gadgets and big enough for a supply of business flyers - because who else is going to post them? Not her so-called partner, that’s for sure. But, most importantly, it has space for her sketch book, watercolour pencils, and a pair of micro binoculars. All zipped up and secured with a combination lock, putting the “private” into Private Investigator.
“You know I would have taken you for one of those fancy coffee maker machines.” Liberty said, leaning on my computer space. I followed her gaze to the old but simple french press on the counter.
“That stuff isn't coffee it's sugar water with caffeine.” I snorted, “That makes real coffee no sugar needed to cover up the bitter water.”
“How many cups have you had today?” She leaned closer to my face.
“Your leg is shaking. Maybe I should pour—”
“Stay away from my coffee, Lib. I don't touch your toys, you don't touch mine.”
Love this! I'm not a huge coffee drinker (don't judge me!) but I recognise those signs in those I know who are.
BTW - I would definitely read their story :)