It was quiet. Accompanied by the arresting scenery that I observed from the other side of the pellucid glass. As the rain plummeted down, creating a tranquil atmosphere, I couldn’t help but ponder what this sweet aroma might be. The scent was sublime, gentle, and foreign. If someone were to explain it to me without my own experience, I simply would have to laugh at the idea. As I inspected my surroundings, I couldn’t help but spot a wide range of books. They weren’t recent books, but older - I could tell because of the covers, titles, and the veil of dust they were covered in, as well as the shelves that accommodated them. Next to the towering antiquated wooden shelves kept company by the immemorial books, stood a lamp. The lamp was graceful, furthermore going along with the old-fashioned ambiance of the place, standing tall, with a stimulating composition. The light of the bulb was lusterless, giving the small café a somber atmosphere that was perfectly suited for me. The walls were practically covered with bewitching art. Each one surpasses the next. The paintings displayed a variety of colors, shapes, and emotions. There was great detail on every single one, I truly admired the dedication of the artists. When I happened to encounter this bijou café, I surely didn’t anticipate all of this. “Inkwell & Ivy Café”, is printed on the sign outside next to the nut-brown door of this establishment. The appellation surely intrigued me. That wasn’t my only ambition to stray into this noshery. It was practically pouring down. I had just finished my hair, and my outfit was to die for - if I do say so myself. Next door, a liquor store - a run-down, neglected building. I didn’t care to read the name but I was certainly not to step foot in that uninviting ramshackle. This was my next, and superior choice of sojourning. I trudged into the door and was met with a chime of a bell. It almost surprised me, but I realized quickly the cause of the peal. I didn’t realize how handsome the place was until I was assisted to a small cafe table beside the window. The place was mostly deserted. The few individuals that inhabited this compact café seemed like pleasant souls. Every single one of them was either working on something with a pen in their hand or reading something entrenching. Absorbed in their reverie, in their daydream you might say. Faint music, from what I could make out - jazz. The sweet aroma in the air, the sound of rain pattering on the pavement outside, and the serenity of the people inside. Time seemed to stop, right at this moment. I heard footsteps on the natural ligneous floor, getting closer and closer. A lady. Leggy, handsome face, moon-eyed, cropped cut hair, she walked as if she were a model. She was wearing an apron that was tied around her waist making her hips more accentuated. She wore a pale blue collared shirt with a black skirt that ended at the bottom of her knees. Her shoes were simple sneakers, they looked comfortable. “Hello!! Welcome to Inkwell & Ivy Café, how may I assist you this rainy evening?”, her voice, feminine and calm. “Good evening, I just stumbled in due to the rain outside. I wasn’t expecting to be served. I’ve never been here before either.” She smiled which accentuated her eyes. “That’s all right! No pressure in ordering anything, you can lounge here until the rain settles.”, her voice was so welcoming. “Thank you so much…”, I began looking for a name badge which she noticed. “Veronica.”, she chuckled. “Veronica. I’m Frances.”, I smiled. I’m pleased the evening rain steered me to this pleasant café.

Beneath the skin’s veil, our fingertips met. Minds clashed, not merely in flesh. He wore shadows, I exuded transparency. Striving to meet each others gaze, only to be met with darkness. How could this be? I had seen him countless times before. Heard his whispers, felt his embrace. Our souls intertwined, yet his essence eluded me. I strained to see, but recognition fled. The soul before me, a strangers guise. As I reach out, chasing his heart. There lay only vacancy. Bared to the bone.

It is a never ending torment, A punishment, but for what? It is day, But never night. My eyes yearn for a break from the light. Never have I wished for darkness, Yet this retribution has pushed me too far. In this perpetual daylight, I find solace in the shadows. For that is the only way I can maintain my prudence. And hope to not stumble off too far.

It was as if my eyes were gouged out, I saw nothing. I felt the breeze and shadows observing me, My every move was mimicked by the me I couldn’t see. I could smell the pain in the air, I couldn’t distinguish if it was mines or the living world I walked upon. Nothing seemed tangible, Just a distant memory. Something or someone I knew before, Yet had never met nor felt. A sense of longing, To see, to feel. Even if I knew that it wasn’t real. As I walked down this woeful esplanade, I imagined the world that called for me. For maybe it be a distant dream, or it shall be a substantial actuality.