I never knew just what it was {Lorene}

[graham douglas stratford;]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding:0; margin: 0; background-image:url(http://i1029.photobucket.com/albums/y353/shockwavesyndrome/thisiswar.png);background-repeat:repeat-y;width: 450px;height:600px;] For the first time in December, Graham found himself seeing his breath in air. Partly pleased with the aspect of winter coming, he quickly blew into his hands for some warmth. It wasn’t too often he had the opportunity to walk around town and enjoy himself before he was on the move again. He rather liked this town; it was quaint, with an old style feel that seemed to live with no intended pace. Quite the opposite from New York City, he took the time to settle down into an old coffee shop and write a bit to relax his mind. The coffee shop, just like everything else in this town was quaint with a chimney poking from the top and a line of smoke could be seen against the partly cloudy sky. Graham blended in well with his peacoat and old-style hat, that no one gave thought to the young journalist when he entered. He stood on line to order something, staring at the chalk-written menu, (a nice touch, he must say) contemplating on what he should order. He eventually resolved to a cup of hot chocolate to keep him warm and muffin to appease his impending appetite. Taking a seat in a desolate corner of the shop, he placed his things down on the chair and opened up his MacBook to check his blog. People sometimes commented on his posts, and it fascinated him to read what they said. Some were flames, while others were the cliché “Amazing, keep it up!” He sometimes responded to the flames with a cavalier attitude—he had to let his people know that the flames didn’t bother him and he was dignified enough to give them an intelligent response. Finishing his muffin, he noticed the multitude of people who just came and went. They didn’t take the time to sit down, he guessed that they would rather grab and go, but he found pleasure in sitting in a coffee shop and just being for awhile. He wondered how many people did the same so he decided to write a small post about it. Life was slow for him, especially in this small town. With the cold weather, random concerts were harder to come by since most took place in a closed venue. He yearned for the summer when you could walk into a field with a collapsible stage and find various bands playing to their heart’s content until the sun set. Even then, some stayed who had strong enough lights. And he would sit there, quietly writing and find people to talk to. The conversations never lasted long, though. It was more of a formal interview. Those who had never met him would be confused as to who he was and why he would take interest in a low-key band. People who knew him either ran to avoid any personal questions or seize the opportunity to promote themselves. If Graham saw that the band deserved to be exposed to the world, he would gladly have an interview or write a review if the music was good enough. He was in no way, shape or form, knowledgeable of any music theory, so it was interesting that he found a career in this. Then again, what interested him were people and people who chose to be in a band as a profession was something to be said in itself. It usually consisted of interesting people anyway. Opening his blog, he began to write his next entry, hoping that someone would respond quickly and maybe have a nice conversation. He didn’t realize how lonely he was; travelling would do that to, but he thought he was stronger than that. Drumming his fingers against the keyboard, he let his thoughts flow out with each word and careful use of syntax. His surroundings began to melt into the background; it was just him and the words on the screen. This is what he lived for. words 780 | tagged | misc: Sorry, not my best u_u this template was made by ZOE of caution 2.0 !

[lorene nicole webb;]

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thunder only happens when it's raining...

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Lorene immediatley was covered in chills. The sudden rush of cold wind hit her hard as she stepped out of her small apartment building. Her long, blonde, mid-back length hair blew carelessly in the wind. Thankfully, she had a few layers on to keep her petite body nice and cozy. Her outfit was for the most part just a solid black. Lorene loved black clothing, especially the ones with lacy fabrics. Not that she was goth or anything, she just preferred it over anything else and thought it looked nice on her. Gave off a kind of mystical vibe she like also. Her shirt was a chiffon overlay top that was very long, the neck was left open to reveal her crescent moon necklace charm. Her black trousers were tucked into some mid-calf high black boots and she had slipped on some thin, leather gloves just to keep her fingers from freezing off. Lorene got cold way too easily, she preferred the autumn time, the weather was perfect.

The soloist hadn't had breakfast yet that morning and it was starting to take it's toll on her stomach. Thankfully, her apartment complex was only a few blocks away from a coffee shop. Making her choice quickly, Lorene began her walk to the shop, needing to save money on gas. She didn't have enough income right now so she had to budget almost everything. Good thing she never ate too much, a simple pastry and a latte would do her over until she could snack on something for a late lunch.

While walking, Lorene passed many people. She, being her shy and reserved self, kept her eye contact to a minimum. Not trying to be rude, she just wanted to get to where she was headed and fast. She could see her own breath for heaven's sake, it was freezing outside. These were the times when she wished she had a mother to ask for a little bit of gas money. Unfortunately, Lorene was on her own, literally. She had friends that gave her frequent company and helped her out when she needed it, but she wasn't about to beg them for cash, it was rude and she could walk a few blocks every once an a while, it wasn't going to kill her.

After a few minutes (although it seemed like forever) Lorene walked into the coffee shop, hearing the little bell on the door ring as she stepped in. Her cheeks were now a rosy red due to the bitter wind and chill outside. The shop was warm and comfortable. A much more desirable temperature than outdoors. Lorene removed her gloves and placed them into her bag she had brought along. It held inside her own journal she wrote in or sketched in. Really it held whatever struck her fancy at the moment. Finding a seat on a booth, she set her bag down next to her quietly and took out a pencil and her journal. Lorene had noticed a man on his blog that she had sat behind. Not that she was being nosy, the web page had just happened to catch her wandering eye as she took a seat. Of course she was too shy to ask what he was writing about so she sat in silence, doodling random flowers on her paper, awaiting her order that she had placed minutes after coming in.

PIXIE of WAKE US UP 2.0 made this template, and she'll be pissed if you steal this, so don't. Otherwise, you face the lifelong curse of tripping onto your face at the most inopportune times.

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