Marie
Marie with eyes that look like a muddy stream. Marie with warm chocolate hair. Marie who yearns to touch. Reaching our to grasp anyone's hand, to have there skin rest against hers and she not shudder. She once was loud and outgoing, but that was before. Running away seamed like a good idea, no one like her there. Called her a liar. Running it was.
James
James with hair the color of night. James with eyes the color of a northern pine. James with his gruff attitude and scruffy cloths. James thought he dose not know that that is his name. Fighting because he can. Fighting because that is all he knows. He was once polite, and kind but no more, that was beat out of him. As was his past, his hope, and his future. Fighting it was.
The bar
The air is a smoky sort of white, from years of cigarettes and cigars. The liquor if bitter as it slides past the lips of the patrons, but they don't much care. The patrons were bikers that fit all of the stereotypes and truckers that weren't much better than them. It was not a place for polite people. But it offered refuge to our two lost souls. And this is where it all begins.
