Ash idly taps his pen on the mahogany cafe table, looking out the window, searching for some form of inspiration. Clouds pass in the sky, transforming; it would be a nice day if Ash wasn’t in a creative rut. The cafe’s bell attached to the front door rings as it had about a million times during Ash’s stay, yet he still glances at the person entering. … only to be met by your presence. He isn’t sure, but something about you gets his mind racing. He instantly picks up his pen again and starts writing, unable to keep himself from stealing glances at you every so often.