Writing a Book in My Spare Time (a short story)

Excerpt: "My dreams however, kept me awake—Claire, William, the breakfast at the Caffè Florian. The conflict. She was nervous, but not refined, and not always on edge, just this morning. The man, the nameless man, or William now, but that doesn’t fit. That’s ok, we will use it anyway. William and Claire at the Caffe.And there was a child, there were children, but this child, their last to leave them, and now they were alone on this trip, alone on a trip for the first time in their lives, really. They had taken trips, vacations, second honeymoons, but there were always children at home, demands to come back to and to worry about.But is that a plot? Who are the characters? Dream on, brain and soul, find me answers, give me questions to ask. I know the story, it’s the details that I don’t know. The story is already in me.But can the story survive one setting? There is another man. He enters the picture soon, as the reader will see. A tall man, slender with a beer belly. A man in his 20s, the reader may presume, or pushing 30. A gentle man, but boy can he drink. And boy can he eat. He joins William and Claire for breakfast and orders immediately. A large bowl of clam chowder, an extra roll or two for the dipping, and a glass of Aperol spritz.That is all for the night."