Small things

In the distance up ahead, laid a giant mug, empty and waiting to become of useful value. A pot of coffee was conveniently placed next to it, brewed and still warm despite my quick journey. It was a good thing the shop was only five minutes away, god forbid my coffee going cold!
I threw my keys, without a sudden thought to where they'd disappear to, somewhere among the mess that scattered through all rooms and halls of my apartment. Why would a guy be so careless to the appearance of his living space, you may ask? That's because I surely didn't give a damn; not when it would all go to waste within a few, short hours.
I'm an artist, you see; sparks of inspiration can be ignited from any such thing. So, when there are no sketch pads in sight, I will simply paint on the walls, at least not before wrecking havoc in search beforehand, though.
You may think that, from this statement, ideas occur regularly. Well, I can tell you they most certainly don't. I haven't been able to think of anything in weeks! Only mundane thoughts have drained my mind; a mind that's usually explosive with ideas.
This dull mindset gets me nowhere. I was aggravated at every precise detail that became anything but perfect.
Only small things were brightening my days. That distinct smell of coffee beans, a beautiful day, a dog passing by my unopened windows. That was, of course, why my croissants had become a big deal to me. Although they were fattening, which worried me greatly, they'd become a traditional Saturday breakfast.
The carrier bag was still tight in my grip and the keys were lost, but at least I had my croissants and coffee!
Nope, you think wrong.
My croissants, lovely as they always were, were today: mouldy.
I could not believe something else had unintentionally added itself to my list of misfortune. Green dots had spread like ink over the surface of their golden outline and, in that flicker of a second, the disappointment had returned.
On another day, I'd have done damn fine with only my coffee! But, as this tipped me over the edge for reasons I could only fathom pointless, I lost it.
Did I care I'd left my apartment unlocked? No. Did I care I didn't even bring the god-damn croissants for proof of their disgraceful appearance? No. I simply stormed through regular crowds and headed back to whatever local store I'd just left.
"Hey! Tall guy-you! The one with those stupid glasses! I just bought croissants off you and they were mouldy. I want a refund. Or an apology... Or both, I haven't decided yet. " The staff worker behind the counter ushered over, his eyebrows sunk in confusion, as if he didn't know he'd sold me dodgy food. Ha! I saw through his lies.
"Excuse me sir, is there a problem?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, there is." I felt my eyebrows rise as I said it, crossing my arms as well, in hope he'd sense my fury."You sold me mouldy croissants and now my breakfast's messed up! "
The worker continued to speak without concern altering his oh-so-typically-genuine words, but my new distraction led me astray from his dishonest apology and his words gradually became a mumble.
A guy, who looked around my age (although being incredibly small) sniggered so loudly my thoughts were invaded with it. Another staff member handed him a pack of cigarettes as he tried to cover his amusement to my situation with a hand that was embellished in many tattoos. How did I know he was laughing at me? I just knew that nothing was funny about a pack of cigarettes or a bland looking employee. It wasn't arrogance, just common sense, and quite frankly his attempts were unsuccessful.
I may have seemed rude, or a little annoyed, but I continued glaring in his direction. He'd looked over again before leaving the shop, noticing me stare. Mumbles from behind were gone from my attention now, the staff member shouted out, "sir? Sir, are you listening?" I gave no response. I'd averted my cares over to the small guy, who was now fixating his view on his new pack of cigarettes. By the time I'd sped-walk after him, he'd left the shop to stand outside, inhaling nicotine in deep drags.
I had a lighter, of course, but I needed an excuse to talk to this person. I wanted to tell him I liked his tattoos, or ask him why my annoyance was so amusing. All I did was ask for the lighter though, socialising wasn't something I'd done in a while.
I guess any conversation is better than none.
A few seconds passed.
"So, uh, you're pretty passionate about your croissants, huh?" The words brought a smile to his face, radiating the atmosphere to make me even laugh at myself a little.
"It's been a bad week, I just wanted a good breakfast."
"..And you're aware it's dinnertime, right?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Well, maybe for you. But it's breakfast for me."
"How so?"
"Well, I spend my nights doing art, so breakfast is pushed back a bit." What an idiot, who defines when breakfast is acceptable anyway.
"Ah, so that's why you're so cranky, you don't get much sleep."
"My sleeping pattern doesn't concern you, neither does my cranky-ness."
"Well just saying, there's no need to go shouting down the necks of staff, although it was still pretty funny that you caused a scene," the laughing continued.
All that raced through my mind was that I'd caused a scene, I've never caused a scene. I barely talk to anyone. Was there people looking at me or laughing like that guy was? Should I even worry?
It was blatantly obvious any human interaction I'd had recently was...not interesting, you could say. I guess it felt good to cause a scene, never mind how unnecessary, and maybe it's just because introverts don't get much rebellion.

Notes

Idk I was practising for English exams when I came up with this,,