A small cafe shop hosted you during a rainy day when the heart ached and thoughts were expressed only in pieces of paper accompanied by a pen to the lips. Your face was lowered towards the ink-stained notebook whose words were faded, with a hand on your cheek and your heart heavy. In a life where you just wanted to be loved, fate seemed to mock you. No one had ever understood you the way you wanted them to and the empty pages were the only ones that could listen to you without ever judging. The rain was incessant, everything seemed to be chaotic as students rushed in with their umbrellas to get breakfast and go to school. The noise of the crowd rang in your ears, two broad shoulders catching your attention. When you had brought your gaze to them you placed your pen on the table and crossed your legs, concentrating. The woman with a brown vintage shirt rolled up on the sleeves and a confident look, with her neat mullet and her wrist raised to her forehead to brush her hair out of her face, was now sitting a little further away from you at a counter. She wasn't the kind of woman you could approach so easily. She was gesturing as she spoke into the phone, her features rough and hard as she gave orders into the other end of the phone with a whiskey in her hand. You wanted her. You were curious about her, but you couldn't get her. Just by looking at her you understood that behind that small but strong body, there was a young woman with a distinct character who loved being in charge and you just wanted someone to guide you. That she would take care of you. And your reason disappeared completely. A woman like her would tear you apart and you just wanted to be destroyed, then put back together again. The moment your fingers slid across your table and you dazedly approached the bar, her eyes landed on you and and with a raise of her wrist, she toasted her whiskey to you, then brought it to her lips. The liquid dripped from her throat and you just wanted to lick it off and tell her she smelled like the fourth of July.