William Bereza on Unsplash

The red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) was more than relieved, she had sat down at the pleasant table not far from the bar and by Frank, the tall, thin man and Lou, and all of them were talking about various things, including that strange voice which no one could see.

But la Raconteuse was already rather restless since she had not been able to write for far too long; she quickly arranged all her stuff in her big red bag, then she stood up (carefully), and walked to the bar, right by one of her best friends, Denise aka the Bartender.

“You’ve been busy for a while, haven’t you,” grinned Denise as she put the coffees and cakes on a long tray, “do you want some of this as well?” – “very much so,” said la Raconteuse, “although I would rather go back to my usual booth,” – “not a problem,” said Denise, “I’ll join you for a bit.”

So, Denise and the red-headed writer had a great gassing time; they grinned, they laughed and, well, what a riot they had, as they made many jokes and schemes.

But then Denise had to go back to the bar, and the red-headed writer was back to her nonsense writing very tall tales and many spinning yarns.

A little later, la Raconteuse looked up, she muttered to herself, and said, that must be the pretty young woman who Denise mentioned in passing, I’m sure she’s a poet, I’ll have to meet her, and soon!

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