Jolie Meadows had written Shakespearean sonnets since she was 12 years old.  The sonnets were always sensual and romantic, far beyond the experience of her young years.  It was just one more thing about that her that made her an outsider in the her small southern north Florida town.  It was only when she moved off to college and began publishing and meeting friends in the publishing industry, other artists, writers, poets that she ever felt she fit in.  The literary magazine world was her true hometown.<br/><br/>It's why she started volunteering at a journal where she was a frequent contributor.  Even though Marla Wyatt, the editor of Enchanted Pages, was a bear of a human to deal with in person, Jolie was happy every time she walked into the doors of their offices.  Just to be a part of a community of writers and artists, in the midst of their energy and creativity.  This place made Jolie feel at home, even when with Marla's chaotic, gruff energy.  It was the energy of creation, and it was a magnet to this budding poet.<br/><br/>Today was no different than most in this regard.  As she made her way to Marla's office, she heard a commotion of assistants scurrying to bring mockups of pages to Marla.  Distracted by this commotion, Jolie didn't notice the other figure barreling out towards her until he made contact.   He was hanme and charismatic in the artistic way of this place and its occupants.  When he spoke his voice was kind and approachable with an undertone of something, an intriguing dark mystery that tickled something inside of her.  He was asking about a job, if she was here for an interview.  Jolie was immediately disarmed and smiled.<br/><br/>"An interview?  No.  I'm a volunteer here.  Well, I mean, I write for the magazine and I just like to be a part of the process so I --"  Jolie heard her longwinded explanation and clammed up.  This is what she did when she was nervous.  She ran on about things too much.  And she was nervous talking to this kind stranger.  She'd just stopped herself from admitting the real embarrassing reason she liked to volunteer here.  She was lonely.  She wanted to make friends.<br/><br/>She looked away from the stranger's probing gaze, let her eyes fall to the floor and waited.