One (Darks POV)

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I sat at the head of the table, Warfstache was swinging his gun around like normal. The office was full of alter egos and egos of the alter egos. My head was spinning, I'm very tired of this conversation, this meeting, this place.
Standing and fixing my suit, I push myself away from the table. Sauntering towards the exit. The meeting wasn't over, but it was the same thing that it always is. Take over Marks life.
Boredom is all I hear now. Mark is strong, everyone knows that. So why not create my own life? That's gibberish. Daydreaming.
I could hear the others yelling my name, telling me to come back, asking what was wrong. Everything was wrong.
The streets were dark, car horns echoed, voices sounded softly. A small café on the end of the street lit the corner. My hands twitched at my side, the thread of my pants start to untwine. My feet scooted against the concrete.
The café came closer into my view. The traffic lights flickered against the Fog. I don't know what was drawing me to the café, but at this point I didn't care.
Stepping in, the little bell above the door rang. Telling everyone that I had entered, just like home. A small elderly woman stood behind the counter, her hair was graying, crows feet and smile lines across her dark skin.
"Getcha a seat, and someone will be right with ya," a pen sat behind her ear, her attention was pointed to the cash register.
Looking around I found a little booth in the furthest corner of the building. There were a few men scattered around, probably truck drivers.
The door to the back opened, showing a younger woman. Her (your color hair and length) made her silhouette catch my eye. She also had a pen sat behind her ear, apron around her waist with a notebook peeking out.
"Excuse me, sorry it took so long, Damn coffee machine. What can I get you?" Her voice was soft, like the finest silk.
"Just a black tea" I could feel the appeal to this woman.
"Alrighty," she smiled at me and walked towards the other costumers.
I need her. It's always been her.

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