Millicent
The evening rush at Opal's was in full swing. My feet ached, my back hurt, and the smell of bacon was making me queasy again, but I pushed through it like I did every day. Three more hours until I could go home for the day.
"Order up!" Betty called from the kitchen, and I grabbed the plates, balancing them carefully as I navigated between tables. The diner was packed with the usual dinner crowd - construction workers grabbing meals after their shifts, retired folks discussing today's news, young mothers trying to keep their toddlers from making too much of a mess.
I'd gotten good at this again, falling back into the rhythm I'd learned as a teenager. Smile, pour coffee, take orders, dodge the occasional grabby hand from men who thought waitresses were fair game. My body remembe
