Angie's Shift

by Bluesy Socrateaser on Wed Mar 04, 2009 5:05 am

Sculptured pedestals, all in a row, patiently await their masters. Napkins and shakers in formation like soldiers, parade rest.
Morning crowd looks bright, talking as they shuffle in.
Cow's bell is busy in this little greasy spoon.
Coffee and a roll, and the days' first cigarette. She laughs at their jokes.
Sabre-like rays of light slice through fins of venetian, capturing the smoke.
All of them 'loved' her, yet they had not left their wives. "Loved her?"
Not that much.
Just a 'breakfast treat', for all the men's attentions.
She knew cruelty.
It laughed at her smile, for the mouth she had to feed.
*Then, that long walk home.

*Angie, single mother of a three year-old girl.
Murdered on the street where she lived.

...for her purse.