Prologue: Purple Rain

Again?

  I rolled over and rolled straight out of bed. I fumbled around, blinking my eyes trying to adjust to the light in the room. The hardest part of all of this was trying to get up and find the window so I could pull it down. It was hot last night and Hannah opened every damn window in the house. When I finally found the window I slammed it down and headed straight to the bathroom. That guy was still on my mind. Those eyes. Those bright hazel eyes. I wonder if I ever would seem him again. I had decided as I was brushing my teeth to take a walk through town since as much as I travel and I'm on tour I've never really been out by myself and not be attacked by the paparazzi. So I got dressed and left.

It was a pretty hot evening in Minneapolis, and I was aimlessly walking down the street. People recognized me but it wasn't that big of a deal. Most just said hey. I took a few pictures and that's it but I felt like a normal person for the most part. I looked at my watch and realized I had been walking around for an hour. I rounded the bend and looked up a hill And saw, a dark purple house on top of it. It looked amazing to me. The house belonged to some funk artist. I forgot his name but he lives right here, in Minneapolis, I hadn't seen him yet. Granted I had only been here for a day or so, but I still. I wanna meet a fellow artist and I've listened to some of his work. The guy has got major talent. I turned around and walked straight back into town. I was hungry, I left without eating breakfast so I went to the farmers market to pick up something quick.
I was standing by the bananas looking for the apples. I scanned the room real quick looking for them and boom. There he was standing by the apples, that guy with heeled boots. He was wearing leather, a black jacket and some pants that were probably tailored to fit him perfectly. He looked even better during the daytime. I looked back down because I didn't want to be noticed by him. My head desperately screamed at me to go ask for his name but my conscious was like why would you do that he's probably a murderer. A well dressed murderer with a healthy diet and beautiful eyes. So, I took a deep breath, walked up to the bin, grabbed a grabbed and apple without looking at him (which was extremely hard to do) Paid for the apple and walked out. It all seemed like one motion. When I got outside I took a huge breath to calm myself down and sat down on the bench outside the farmers market and people watched while I ate my apple. Green apples were my favorite. One thing caught my eye and I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed this shiny purple bike outside. I was seriously jealous of that motorbike, man. That motorcycle was prettier than me. I wanted to take a ride on that. Not that I could drive a motorcycle but hey, I could be driven or something. Like they do in the movies while music plays in the background. I took a last bite of my apple and got up to throw it in the trash. At the same moment that guy walked out of the door. When he looked at me I gave a little wave and started my walk home.