The Writer's Café

Pimella walked into the stinky food ridden cafe, arms swinging, as she hums a little tune.

She froze in the doorway, taking in the huge mess as a few regulars battle it out.

"Not even gonna ask," she said with a roll of her eyes, and she quickly made her exit.
 
Hey Feather! You wanted proof?

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Couldn't find a decent angle :S
 
I KNEW YOU WOULD LOOK THAT WAY! Glasses, that bumpy voice. It's all there! Cept you aren't black. I knew when I mentioned Drake the rapper-singer you were white!
 
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