{Kris' P.O.V}

The first time I saw her was around 9:00 on a Friday night.

Other than the usual patrons of the coffee house I worked at, she wasn't chatting with friends or listening to music.

She was, almost frantically, writing in a notebook, and occasionally a scrap piece of paper or even a napkin.

At first glace, she could be mistaken for any university student that came to work on a last minute assignment.

I knew this wasn't the case.

Taking a closer look at her I could see that she hadn't slept for days, maybe even a week.

The various mugs and packets of sugar that littered the table she was working at told me that she didn't plan on sleeping tonight either.

Another factor that spoke of her (most likely self induced) insomnia were the dark cirles that rimmed her sharp brown eyes.

Lastly the slight shaking of her hands whenever she paused showed signs of her exhaustion.

She wasn't the first sleep deprived undergrad I've seen, and she most likely wouldn't be the last.

However, there was something about her....something that drew me in.

Soon, even the late night customers left, and me, being the guy with the night shift, I had to close up.

She was the only person left. I apprached her table.

"Excuse me miss, but we're closing now." I said.

She seemed startled, almost as if I woke her from a deep sleep. She looked up at me with pleading eyes.

"Just half an hour please, just let me finish this. I'll even buy something!"

I sighed "Alright," I might as well help her out "but only half an hour," I relented.

She nodded and rummaged through her book bag and pulled out a 20 dollar bill.

"Give me as many espressos as this can buy," she said.

"Don't worry about it," I replied. She tilted her head in confusion. I closed her fingers around the money in her hand.

"It's on the house." I said.

As I prepared her drink I couldn't hear the frantic scratching of her pen or the shuffling of papers anymore.

I looked overat her turning my back to the counter, and I saw her, fast asleep, sprawled on the mess of papers and coffee mugs.

Her dark features were striking against heer pale caramel skin.

The expression she wore even while asleep seemed anxious.

Her brow was furrowed and her pale pink lips moved slightly, as if she were whispering to someone.

It seemed like a shame to wake her from what looked like a well-deserved sleep.

Though I couldn't leave her in the shop, I gently nudged her forearm which she used as a pillow.

Her eyes snapped open startling me more than her.

She lifted her head, and brushed her black bangs out of her face. She looked up at me still slightly dazed.

"I think you should go home now," I suggested.

"I don't have a home," she replied.

I was slightly intrigued at how her voice before seemed so innocent and desperate, and now how it changed to cold as ice.

What did she mean by she had no home? Was she homeless?

"No, I'm not homeless," she replied as if reading my thoughts, "I live in an aprtement but it's not my home."

"Apartement or home, whichever, I'm sure there's someone ther waiting for you."

She smirked slightly at this, but said nothing.

She gathered all her papers and shoved then into a folder, then slung her bag over her shoulder, and headed towards the door.

Before she left she turned to me saying, "Would you mind if I asked your name?"

"Kris," I replied.

She smiled this time. and not a cold smirk. "I'm Jem, thank you for everything Kris."

Before I could say anything more she was gone.

I watched her retreating figure as she walked further and further away.

The moonlight seemed to cast an otherworldly glow around her figure.

She was so mysterious that you wanted to know mare about her, like an interesting novel that had you just jeep turning it's pages.

But something told me that I didn't even see that title of her story.