Sage had more then a little bit of difficulty sleeping the previous night. She'd met a kid worse off then she had been, worse off then she could really imagine in her head. She knew there were kids in the system, knew there were kids that lived on the streets, but it was one of those things you tried so very hard not to think about until it was thrown into your face. It had been thrown in her face in the form of a little girl named Alice, and Sage wasn't entirely convinced her name was actually Alice.
She'd spent her night sketching the face in her note-book just in case, then there were of course the accompanying dead eyes of her best friend, the lost eyes of her boyfriend. Things were shit. Her aunt had checked on her a handful of times, which was a concept to Sage that she didn't quite understand. Once she realized sleep wouldn't be had she made her way towards her parents house, something on her mind. She grabbed a few things, stuffed them into a bag and then spent the rest of her night wandering the streets. To get an idea of what it was like out there. Not that she didn't spend her time wandering the streets, it was rarely in the middle of the night. New York City might have been the city that never slept, but that didn't mean some of those streets weren't quiet. It was eerie really.
The next day though she'd shown up at the coffee shop, she went inside only to grab herself an iced coffee and spotted a few of the same patrons, the same Cashier, so she took her iced coffee, the bright orange messenger bag she had, and headed out to standing for a while at first, watching the passerby's, before she took a seat in one of the metal chairs outside. Hooking the bag handle around her arm but setting it on the floor. Again anything of real importance was in the pocket of her jeans. Black flip flops on her feet out stretching in front of her crossed at the ankles, a pair of aviators on her face covering up tired eyes, blond hair pulled back in another messy french braid. A plane green tank top today covering her torso.
She wondered if the girl would show up, or if she'd be waiting here for hours. And Sage planned to wait...it didn't matter how long it took. If she had to go in and get a handful of refills on the iced coffee, she'd sit, she'd wait. If she got bored she had a book, she had her sketchpad. She could entertain herself for the most part. There was a distinct part of her brain that thought perhaps she shouldn't have shown up. That she should have washed her hands of an eight year old girl and let it be. But she just couldn't bring herself to do it.