It’s been twenty-five days since I’ve escaped the pack of my birth.
I clear out the table, stacking all the plates and cups on the large black tray I was given. It’s the evening, and I don’t have to be slow. I had to get back to serving because people were coming in.
The work is tiresome in the evening, but I don’t hate it. I cannot hate it, because the job is the only thing that was keeping me afloat. It was kind of the owners to take me in and give me room and board too when I came here. I only worked as a waitress for a couple of months when I was seventeen. But then I got fired and never really tried to find another job, mostly because I turned eighteen shortly afterward and fell in love with David.
Every time I think about David, I get the need to raise my head and glance at the wi
