As a kid, she was always told eventually she'd grow up. She'd grow out of fairytales, and learn that they're nothing but stories. She never did. Sure, she'd never experienced it personally. She never met her prince, she never got swept off of her feet but it never bothered her. Whenever it was brought up that she should have met that someone special already, she'd reply with 'oh that's cause he had to tend to a dragon.' if she was in a fantasy feeding mood. Or she'd say 'the world isn't magic it's gonna take time.'

Something inside her felt strange. She couldn't get the boy with brown eyes out of her head. The way his eyes glistened. As always she sat in her usual seat in the same cafe. She tried to write about her usual sightings. About others but once again her mind focused solely on him. 

She wrote the fantasies her mind conjured. Once she filled a page she felt satisfied and began to write about the love she witnessed. The first ones she wrote about were the young ones, the first meeting she assumed based on the level of awkwardness. She wrote about how she imagined they first met, then about how they agreed to meet up. Finally, she wrote them a happy ending. All of her stories had a happy ending. She firmly believed all stories deserve a happy ending.

The second was a bit different from what she usually wrote again, a group of girls. Based on the conversations she overheard the only red-head in the group was getting married. So she used that material and wrote about it.

Halfway in the middle of writing the second story, she was interrupted. She looked up. It was the boy. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"I just recognized you from the other day and wanted to say hi." came his reply.

"Oh, well, hi," she said. She moved her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. He was tall, and his brown eyes made her weak but she had to keep her heart in check. She barely knew him 

"So is the second meeting still too early for names?" he asked with a small smile spread on his face.

She tried to hide her smile but failed, "I guess not."  

"I'll take it then, I'm Will."

"Cherisa," she replied.

"Lovely name," he said putting his hands in his pockets. "Well, I'll see you around?"

"Most likely," she said and he walked away. Her heart pounded. Now she had a name to go along with the face. She finished the story about the girls in the cafe and then walked home.