Sunday, January 27, 2008


It's a quiet small neighborhood just outside of the city, with trees everywhere, happy people walking their dogs and a few business. Cold. Instead of water, snow drizzles in the air.
But people don't ever seem to care. It is a calm little suburban where people are mostly happy with their lives. Great place to raise a kid. I work at fat city cafe, one of the only few cafes in the neighborhood.

Every morning I go to the store and open the doors for hungry people looking for some old fashioned American breakfast. And every morning 7:15 sharp, she's there.
Hair tied up at the front, the rest of the hair can only be describe as "crazy". Her face is always covered with thick make up, there are always at least five colors on her face. Her clothes remain the same thing since the 80s, broad shoulders and tight waist. The looks are completed by a shiny red leather heels.

She shows up everyday, she stands in front of the door for a while, until she finishes her cigarette, and then she walks in. Ordering the same thing every single day. Coffee and hash-browns. And she always has a hand full of cash to pay. ...

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