(I haven't written a solo story in a while, folks, so cut me some slack if it ends up a bit one dimensional. Enjoy!)
Eric sat in silence. The empty beer bottles and frozen pizza cardboard strewn about his living room were a dark reminder of the past few days. It was six in the morning and he still hadn't slept more than ten hours since he got the news that Toby had died. Eric had moved to another state hours away from Toby and the motorcycle scene he had become a part of in the last number of years he had lived there.
He pushed himself out of bed and dressed in sweats, ragged old comfortable shoes, his Two Wheel Mayhem shirt and hat. The group was only about 8 years old and of those 8 years the community had grown to over 2000 registered members on an online forum that was created for the group in 2008. He had joined shortly after its online birth. Toby had joined only a little more than a year before, but became close friend with all who knew him. Eric was no different and had been feeling his loss in his own way.
Out the door, he decided to hit up the local coffee shop in town. They had a few good concoctions and he knew the small library there of books would be worth checking out. He was determined not to spend another day shut up in his apartment staring at Facebook pictures of his fallen comrade. It was only a few blocks away so he stepped out his front door, took a deep breath of the spring air in, and set down the road.
He tried to think on lighter things as he walked, but nothing would soothe him till he got the smell of the fresh coffee inhaled. As he walked in the door, he smiled a bit. The different blends of flavors and roasts filled the air mixed with the aroma of fresh baked breads to compliment the wonderful, energizing drinks. He ordered an espresso drink and while the barista worked her magic, he began browsing the small shelf of books they had to read. He made it past the westerns and romance novels before his drink was ready. He went back to the counter when he was called and collected his beverage and thanked the cute girl that he would normally try to flirt with.
He took his first sips of his drink and walked back to the bookshelf. After what seemed like a particularly hot sip, his eyes fell on a book that was pulled out about a half an inch in the middle of the shelf. Grabbing it with his fingertips and pulling it off the shelf, he read the words on the spine, Poems, Pancakes, and Marbles. It was a hardcover book without a sleeve. The cover was plain but showed its popularity in its wear. The corners were a bit scuffed and the spine well worked. He turned it over in his hand and decided that this would be as good book as any for the day. He sat down on a chair, set his coffee down on table next to him and turned to the first page.