Together, Zoey and I packed up a few remaining items and headed for the door. I still couldn't convince Zoey to tell me where we were going, exactly, but something told me to trust her. I tossed my duffel in the back seat of her car and we headed out.
Zoey turned on the radio and started jamming. Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, she drove a little faster, stepping on the gas pedal in time with the beat. The song was only too appropriate: "When I Write the Book" by Nick Lowe. "This is lesson one," Zoey said, her voice lilting over the catchy tune. "Stop saying things like 'someday' this and 'one day' that. Just stop! There will always be a million reasons not to do something, not to get down to work, not to write that novel. Forget about it! Do it now."
"Yeah," I breathed, a huge grin on my face. "I'm so, so ready." The time had come, after all the words bouncing around in my head my entire life, to finally fulfill one of my greatest dreams.
"We're here!" Zoey announced with glee, pulling to a stop in a small-nondescript parking lot in front of a run-down cafe. "Ever been here before?" she asked, pulling her keys from the ignition.
"Nope," I replied. I'd driven by this strip mall a dozen times in the last couple months, but never thought anything about it. I hadn't even known that this cafe was still operational. "What are we doing here - just getting a cup of coffee before heading out into the writing world?"
Zoey shook her head. "Nope. This is our first real stop. Some friends of mine are already inside." We both hopped out of the car and headed toward the cafe patio, now overgrown with weeds and vines. "You ready?" she asked.
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