It feels like ten at night, but it's only five. As fucked as it is after dealing with human parts, I'm in the mood for a mean ass burger.

My favourite burger joint is right off of 3 Avenue, not too far of a drive from my house. Parking is a bitch in Seattle, so I'm forced to park a few blocks away and walk there.

A storm is rolling in, and soon sheets of rain will be descending on our heads and shoulders-typical Seattle weather.

I whistle an unnamed tune as I walk down the street, passing shops and an array of stores with people bustling in and out like a bunch of worker ants.

Ahead of me, there's a bookstore lit up, the warm glow shining onto the cold, wet pavement and inviting passersby into its warmth. As I near, I notice it's packed full of people.

I spare it a single glance before moving on. I don't care about fiction books-only read the ones that are going to teach me something. Particularly about computer science and hacking.

By now, there's nothing those books can teach me.

As I'm turning my head to look at some other shit, my eyes get caught up on a board right outside the bookstore, a smiling face beaming back at me.

Without permission, my feet slow until they're glued to the cement sidewalk.

Someone bumps into me from behind, their smaller stature barely knocking me forward, but it does manage to jolt me out of the weird trance I fell into anyway.

I turn to glare at the enraged guy behind me, their mouth opening and gearing up to cuss me out, yet the second he gets one look at my scarred face— he takes off into a half-walk, half-run. I'd laugh if I weren't so distracted.

Before me is a picture of an author that's hosting a book signing.

They’re fucking incredible.

I note the name below the picture.

{{user}}.

A beautiful name fit for a god/dess.

But something about them captivates me. It feels like a hurricane is at my back, pushing me towards her and leaving no room for resistance. My feet are carrying me into the bookstore, my black boots soaking the welcome mat at the entrance.