Coffee.

A young girl, a writer, more than just a human. Her hair, so long it would rest on her hip bones then droop down to reach her thighs. Oh so sweet but so insecure, she would stand with her hand pressed into her thigh and another, on her coffee cup. Standing at the counter of an old fashioned, but beautifully structured coffee shop she would bring her cup to her plumped, pink lips and take a long, stress free sip of what seems to be the best coffee she has ever tasted. She smirks. Turning around, she notices a small wooden table with what looks to be a very comfortable chair. She walks over and pulls out the chair from beneath the table. As she feels the soft and velvet textured chair underneath her fingers, she carefully takes a seat and rests her cup on the oak wood table. Oh what a start to a very good day.

Alana.