[ WP ] You 're sitting in a coffee shop watching a man type on his computer . He types the words , `` It begins raining outside '' , and it instantly starts raining .

I admit it, I am one of those writers that take advantage of the free wifi and write while drinking over priced coffee at the local Starbucks. Despite what you think though, I do n't do it to be seen writing. My reasons are not that shallow, home has too many distractions and I prefer the white noise of a busy coffee shop than the hushed quiet atmosphere of a public library. 
 
 Though the hum of my downtown Starbucks is n't doing much for me today. I written myself into a corner and had n't written so much as a word in over an hour. Trying to push something out was just has hard as head butting through a brick wall. 
 
 I admitted defeat to, my so far two thousand worded foe, and let my eyes wonder at the people in front of me. Namely at this big happy looking guy wearing a graying beard and worn red flat cap. He looked like a younger, jollier, goofy looking George R. R. Martin. 
 
 It seem flat cap was not having much success with his writing either. His ancient IBM laptop had nothing but a big empty word document. However, instead of looking like one usually does when they do when starring a blank page, like defeat or frustration, this guy looked like a very big happy kid in a candy store. His eyes where huge as dinner plates while his fingers just hovered over they keys waiting for the okay to unleash on the old chunky computer. 
 
 He held that look for a good while until he felt my eyes bore a hole in the back of his head. He turned to me and gave me a wink. He turned back to the outdated machine and wrote, `` It begins to rain.'' 
 
 As he hit that period key a torrential rain his the city streets outside, people caught outside scrambled to get inside or to where they're doing grabbing anything they can to fruitlessly keep themselves dry. 
 
 I turned back to the man, he was bellowing as if he heard the funniest joke, `` You're wondering how I did that do n't cha?'' He asked with a child like smile. 
 
 I just looked back at the man not sure what to do, sparing me from responding myself he used his finger to beckon me closer as if to tell me a secret. 
 
 `` There is real power in imagination,'' He took a breathless second, trying to curb his enthusiasm and excitement enough to speak. `` You may think those people you create on your pages are things of fancy, but they're real, they exist! Not in this world but in others. If you let your world speak to you than just dictating it, miracles happen!'' 
 
 `` Then what does this make you?'' I asked, not sure what make of this. 
 
 He turns back to his laptop and writes, `` I am known by many names, which I am not sure I am deserving of such reverence, or even if that is truly my role in all of this. But I am truly excited to meet you Donnie.'' 
 
 `` Wait, how do you know my name?!'' 
 
 He, with a giant grin on his face, gets up, closes his computer, and leaves the coffee shop. I get up to chase after him, only to be hindered by the crowd. I lost track of him in the busy city street, his red flat cap disappearing in the crowd. 
 
 The rain stopped, warm sun light falling on already soaked shoulders. I return to my computer, grateful that no one took advantage and run off with it. 
 
 Back to my unfinished draft, I am more lost than ever before.
