Sitting in the bar, beer in hand, I sipped and watched as she walked in. I knew her, though I couldn’t place it at the moment, black hair and somehwat rigid nose. The eyes, too. But from where?

I watched her sit at the bar, sipping cold Bud Light from the brown, sweaty bottle. I heard open mic night was tonight, so I stopped by to check things out. I didn’t expect to see her there, not that I could place her and her black glasses. Then it hit my brain with the force of an A Bomb. ‘Holy shit’ I whispered to the whirring fan overhead. ‘That’s Jolie!’

I wondered what to do now, though. This woman I know only from a blog and Myspace, and she the same. Her writing was an inspiration, making me jealous with the way she wielded her wit and ability to pull me in. I loved this woman for her expertise. Do I tell her? No. She would surely have me tossed out. Or would she? Maybe she’d be flattered. Maybe she would be as excited to see me, as we fandom for each other to a degree. Then again, she might not recognize me, just as I didn’t recognize her at first.

I gulped down the last few ounces in the bottle and nearly slammed it on the table, my mind made up. I stood and walked over to the bar where she sat, drink in hand.

‘Excuse me, you’re Jolie Porter, right? Then again, mayhap that’s not your real name, but it’s how I know you. I’m Wailin, and I love you for your mind.’