I was here,

but now I'm gone..

I left my name,

to turn ya'll on ;)

~The great Charles Hogan

I shake my head at the immaturity of one 'Charles Hogan' and place my oversized purse beside the more than grungy looking sink. I squint and frown at the hardly legible writing sprawled across the bathroom stall, debating weather or not to write back to this cliche graffiti. I'm tempted to write a reply on the now stained for life bathroom stall, just for the hell of him seeing it; but I'm not armed with a perminate marker as this 'Charles Hogan' once was. Though I have a tube of red lipstick deep inside the pocket of my purse, and even though it can wash off, I decide to write my reply just for the thought of a smart insult. Stupid boy, never write such an immature poem on a ladies bathroom stall and not expect a smart reply. Hell, stupid boy, you shouldn't even be inside this room anyways, didn't you see the sign plastered onto the door outside?

I grin to myself and unzip my purse, digging around for a moment until I notice the fire engine red tube I've been looking for. It's been over-used to the point of becoming terribly low in makeup, and scratched on the outside, but that's okay.. I have more where that came from.

I uncap the tube and walk to the poem onto the bathroom stall wall, and press the makeup against the cold metal. Maybe this will teach that stupid boy that he shouldn't be intruding into a ladies room and writing disgusting graffiti onto the wall. Hasn't his mother taught him any better? Hasn't he any manners?

I was here,

But now I'm gone,

Your filthy remark,

I'm not so fond;

And if you decide to come back for more,

I'll hit you with this,

Rusty bathroom stall door,

~Sincerly, Not A Dumb-ass.

I add a heart beside my now, oh so rude alter ego, and place the cap back on my ruined lipstick.

Letting the stall door swing closed, I make my way out of the bathroom, grabbing my purse on the way out. I slip my lipstick into the side pocket as I walk into the open once more, ignoring gruesome stares from the town folk that sit inside the tiny diner.

It seemed as though all they were all wondering why the hell I was here; and honestly, I was still wondering the exact same thing.

I make my way back to the shaded booth in the corner, where two new figures have seemed to be accompanying my father. I notice the head of blonde first, than the one of chocolate brown later; both seem to have a heavy amount of gel for this occashion, not a single hair out of place. And in saying that, I knew it was them and this wasn't the sick joke I had planned it out to be.

I felt a familiar feeling eurpt in the pit of my stomach, the same feeling I had had this morning when I contemplated weather or not this deal was true or false, when really I should have been accepting the fact that I was to be married off to a man I have yet too meet. A man that sits beside his own father in the booth in front of me. I bit my cherry smeared lip in anxiety as I continue to concentrate on the beat of my heels, noticing as the blonde turns towards me and my breath hitches.

Was this him?