Bloody Hands and Broken Glass-Part 1
Everything would've gone so different if I hadn't walked into that hipster coffee shop on North Milwaukee. If I hadn't asked the ginger barista who that stunning girl in the back of the room with a leaf tattoo on the back of her neck was, writing in an embroidered sketchbook and chewing on the end of a ballpoint pen. If I hadn't sat down in the chair across from her, and smiled a greeting. If that angel of a girl hadn't looked up at me with a smile that made my heart skip a beat. If I hadn't looked into those pools of honey for eyes. If I hadn't asked her what her name was. And if she hadn't said, "I don't know."
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