Hi, my name is Elisa and I live the vagabond life. Every since I was young, I had never really settled in one home for more than eight months. I would prefer to say "more than a year" but I liked being honest. And besides, it wasn't really a big deal.

This time, I found myself in New York City. Things were pretty normal in Manhattan. Weeks went by and normal still seemed kind of the thing for me. Until that one uneventful day where I saw this very familiar guy.

I thought I already met him before. And I was right. And I was horrified I was right. Because that particular night I spent with him months ago? Yeah, I pretty much convinced myself it was nothing but a nightmare. Only it wasn't.

Then I found myself spending more time than I wanted with this guy. Until I also found myself, maybe, probably, falling for him.



"Why are you looking at me? Do I have dirt on my face?" I asked, brows furrowed.

He chuckled.

"Yes, you do have a red paint on your face. But that's not why I'm looking," he said.

I raised one eyebrow and cocked my head to the side.

His grin turned into a sweet smile.

"I liked watching you with your art. It's like watching a rose bloom. Or the sun rise. Beautiful and fascinating," he said as he reached over to wipe the paint off of my cheek with his thumb.

Then I had a heart attack.
Kidding. Still breathing. But barely so.

Author's notes:

How you doing everybody?! I am back! I can't believe I'm writing again! And I can't believe I am actually writing Elisa's story!

I am so excited about this and hope you guys are, too!

Wishing you guys are still around to read the things I write :)

Also, wishing the writing-voo-doo-dolls are still there to help me out! LOL.

Anyway, let's do this!