Page 2 of Fibre and Ink

“Hey Harlow.” I stood and hugged hello. Our relationship over the last year had been rocky but we were back on solid ground now. “What’re you up to?”

“Oh, I’m grabbing an early lunch before I start at the community center,” she said.

I opened my mouth to ask her to join me and paused. I was there to write, I couldn’t give in to the first excuse to avoid my work. Could I?

Harlow glanced past me and saw my set up. “Oh, you’re getting some work done? That’s so nice. I won’t bother you, I’m getting a smoothie to go.”

“Yeah, well trying to get some work done.” I ran my hand through my hair. “Haven’t made much headway yet.”

“You’ll get there. See you soon?” She kissed me on the cheek.

“Yeah, soon.”

Harlow went to order at the bar and I sat back down. I sipped my coffee then added sugar.

Okay. Writing.

But I didn’t have anything to write about.

I typed a description of the diner, just for something to do. Maybe writing would unlock something inside me, from the mere the act of it.

It didn’t work.

I stared at my laptop as if it contained the secrets of the universe. At school I’d been given directions. Assignments. With direction, I’d been able to write. Was knowing I was writing something with purpose, what sparked my imagination?

Where did that leave me as a writer? If I didn’t have an assignment I was lots at sea?

What kind of writer needed someone to tell them what to do? Leonard Cohen would never have written like that.

Where was my muse?

Did I even have a muse?

What would my muse even look like if I had one? Were muses all girls or could I have a trans muse like myself?

My slowly spiralling panic over what a muse was stopped abruptly when Andrew approached the booth. “Want anything else to eat, Aster?”

I looked at my plate of crumbs. I’d inhaled my bagel without realizing it. When had that happened?

“Uh, sure.”

I grinned at him, hoping it covered my panic. Andrew, his brother and their partners had all been in my drag show at Pride. I couldn’t ruin his idea of me as a highly competant and awesome drag king be sullied by me panicking on a Monday morning over nothing.

Andrew was a very handsome man with golden hair and a smile as warm as a fresh cinnamon bun. “Is a roast beef sandwich with mustard and mayo still your favorite?”

My stomach grumbled and I nodded. “Side of fries, too?”

“Coming right up.”

The door opened. Harlow and her brother Mickey walked in together.

She stopped when she saw me. “You’re still here?”

I checked the time, hours had passed since she’d been in for a smoothie. How had that happened? How long was I panicking?

I waved them over, sliding my stuff back into my bag. “Yeah, come join me. I’ve ordered just ordered a sandwich.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Mickey slid into the booth beside me. “How you doing, Aster?”