100 words: Life Story

I fingered the fragile handle of my cup as a car attempted to park in the narrow lane. Sounds of car horns and verbal insults peppered the aged window, attracting the attention of the other patrons.

Scribbling absent-mindedly, I was slightly startled when the waiter brought me my bill.

“Oh, Sir, are you keeping a journal? A diary? Or are you writing an autobiography?”

I placed a note on the tray.

“No, I’m not writing anything like that.”

I gathered my stuff and prepared to stand up and leave.

“I am not a person with a life story to tell.”