Rewind to Monday

Josh sat at his favorite corner coffee shop at precisely 8:12 a.m. every weekday morning. It was something predictable amidst the chaos of daily life. Routine was his comfort blanket, the kind of security he thrived on. That Monday seemed no different. His order was already in before he glanced at his watch: a latte with a shot of vanilla. He felt the comforting warmth seep through the cardboard as he settled into the usual spot by the window. As he took a sip, the shop door jangled and a mechanic from the auto garage down the street entered, throwing an unexpected weight on the mundane air. His oil-smudged hands seemed unusually gentle as they tapped on the counter. Josh had seen him around, humming various tunes between tightening bolts and fixing engines. Doug, his name was. "Got a gig tonight," Doug admitted sheepishly to the barista, barely looking up. "Gonna play some of my stuff... if you want to come, I mean." Josh raised an eyebrow, an invite for strangers wasn't what he expected first thing in the morning. Doug caught his eye and gave a cheeky grin. "You should come, Josh." Doug sauntered out, leaving the words hanging heavy in the air. An invitation seemed harmless enough. Curiosity piqued, Josh decided to meander the rest of the morning. Once on the street, he spotted an aging novelist who lived nearby, fondly known for his frequent essays and mystery novels. The man cracked a conspiratorial smile as Josh approached. "You ever think stories have a way of creeping up on you?" he asked, more to himself than Josh. "Mornings like this, they're like free chapters just waiting to be written." Before Josh could respond, the novelist was back to his paperback draft. Confused but intrigued, he realized he'd spent an hour observing the street—more entertainment than he usually had in weeks. At this point, time was meaningless. Recalling Doug’s impromptu invite, Josh found himself heading to the small venue before the afternoon had a chance to evaporate. The venue, much more timid than he'd imagined, had Doug center-stage. Clumsy music turned into magic. Though each song was improvised, something incredible emanated from his passion. As Doug strummed his last chord, applause erupted with vigor, claps felt like lightning cracking through the air. Doug approached Josh afterward, head modestly bowed. "Glad you came... even if it was made up this morning. Bit of a funny day, right?" Josh smiled, realizing it was true. Life, today, was fiction—weaved with tiny interactions he never really noticed before. Returning home, he passed the novelist once more, now out on his stoop, his notebook balanced awkwardly on his knee. Wordlessly, they exchanged a knowing nod, confirming something shared that needn't be uttered aloud. When the next Monday rolled around, everything was still in its routines, yet Doug's music echoes had infused an extra brush of color. Josh’s mind bustling with words was fuel for his inner narratives. Sometimes, life loved flipping the script.