*Cafe

@Sarah Mcdaniel Once the next bus approaches, I'm the first one to get on. My fingers drummed on my thigh, revealing the inner turmoil and anxiety which I faced. That sketchbook was my child, how could I have left it hanging around? Remorse and regret only piled up more. When the bus pulls up at the familiar stop, I'm the first to get off. The weather was not a factor now - I briskly walked through the chilly breezes with quick strides, determined to find my beloved sketchbook. I reach the cafe within a few minutes, heaving a few breaths before entering calmly, or so it seemed. My first stop was the cashier; with a friendly but nervous smile, I ask whether a lost sketchbook had been found within the last twenty minutes. When the answer is no, my heart slightly drops. Alright, next stop - the seat I sat at. I spin around, finally targeting the table by the window I had drank my coffee at and make my way over. A young woman sat there, eating and drinking at the same table. I bit my lip before approaching further. Ah, there it was: the searched for sketchbook. I stop right at the table, sighing in relief. It was safe. Yet I can't stop my suspicious personality from arising, glancing at the girl for a quick second. "Hi there," I initiate, my hands traveling across the table to grab the black book which I had worried so much over.

@Kim Myungsoo After a while of sifting through the pages, I pause a bit. Surely someone must've dropped it. There's no way a book or a person with such talent would leave such a valuable item here purposefully. So, in conclusion, someone had left it behind accidentally. Despite me wanting to find the person whom this sketchbook belonged to, I had to let my playful personality get the best of me. Opening to a new page, I drew, I drew the features of a beautiful maiden's profile, and from there, I let my creativity fly. Accents of gold and pink roses littered over the girl's features, plump red lips accented the angel's bright vivid eyes. The headdress that tangled within the dark curls of her hair was a golden wreath. The beauty of Aphrodite I would come to name it. Quickly finishing it, I close the book, setting my pencils aside before I resumed eating my cheesecake and taking a sip of my hot chocolate, My eyes trail over to the sketchbook. Curious to see who the person whom this book belongs to.

@Sarah Mcdaniel As the bus approaches the stop, I set away my phone and near the door. Once on the bus and sitting, I forage through my backpack for my sketchbook. I had thought of a nice embroidery detail while waiting and wanted to add it before I forgot everything. Yet the medium sized black book was nowhere to be found. Telling myself to stay calm, I meticulously search through all the zippers, pockets, any opening I can find before fear starts spreading. That sketchbook was my life, my being. Without it....Knowing that the panic was spreading, my hands shakily pull out my phone, searching for the cafe I had just went to. I dialed, but the line was busy. Crap, this was bad. Once the bus stops, I quickly get off and check my gps for the nearest trip back to the cafe. I hoped nobody had taken it...even worse if they took it for their own...Shaking away these fears, I breathe in and out deeply before waiting for the next bus back to where I had come from. It would be okay, Myunsoo, it would be okay.

@Kim Myungsoo I'm unsure if I should be leaving the mansion, but I figure to just let it be. With slow, wobbling steps, I soon find myself at the cafe. I take in the sweet crisp northern wind with faint reminiscences of the pastries inside the cafe. Taking a slow breath, I soon enter the cafe, holding my purse close against my body as I order my own cup of hot chocolate along with a strawberry cheesecake. Making my way to an empty table, I was about to sit down before my mismatched eyes take notice of the sketchbook on the table. Setting down my items down beside the sketchbook, I open to the first page, then the next, my eyes traveling over the designs and various fabrics that could be used within the different outfits. Each one unique and far different from the rest. As if they could be worn by Angels.

@Sarah Mcdaniel I tilt my head back to drink the remaining drops of coffee left in my cup before closing my sketchbook and getting up to throw my trash away. It was a cool, brisk morning and a hot drink was a perfect way to start the day. Thanking the cashier at the front, I push open the exit door of the cozy cafe and face the morning cold. Oblivious to the precious item I had left in the cafe, I wrap my jacket even tighter around my body in hopes of keeping the warmth of the coffee. Still, despite the weather, it had been a productive morning. I think back to the past hour of sketching, pleased with the amount of work I was able to get done. Drawings of garments flowed out easily, a rare occurrence. Now, the hardest task was to make my ideas a reality. After reaching the bus stop, I pull out my phone to skim over my schedule for the day - appointments, goals, etc.