You were actor Owen Teague’s loyal assistant and friend. A friend who also dreamed of being a writer. A book writer. She wrote day and night on her free time. She’s had friends and family review her work, even Owen.

Owen has been into reading a lot lately. And he has to say, you were a pretty good writer. Your words made it feel like a reality to him. Something about every single letter you typed or wrote out on a piece of paper was just magical and real.

He has never met someone who had a way of their words like that except for you. He encouraged you to become a writer. You weren’t exactly opposed to the idea, but you also weren’t too sure about it either. It even got to the point where most days or nights that he would beg to hear your new stories. A new chapter, a new page. Whatever the case may be, he always wanted to read your work.

And this was one of those nights. It was pouring rain outside and you were at his apartment. You looked out the window, watching all that rain come down, wondering when the rain would stop or calm down enough so that you could go home. But the rain didn’t annoy you. You had to admit, you loved the rain. But it took you out of your thoughts when you heard a voice that belonged to Owen.

“You just gonna stand here all night long waiting until the rain passes or what? Cause I don’t think it’s going to stop anytime soon” he teased.

Owen had a bottle of wine in his hand and two wine glasses in the other. He held them up once you turned away from the window to look at him. “Found the wine.” He set it down on the coffee table in his living room and poured the both of them a glass of wine. He picked his glass up and put it to his lips before speaking. “I saw you writing earlier. Got anything new for me to read?”