She had factory made brown hair, brown eyes, a suburban family: Dad, Mom, 2.5 kids, I was sure of it. She was Spongebob with a side of Fruity Pebbles all encompassed in one beautiful body. I was fresh from job interview land, in my wonderfully snazzy business suit. I was rockin out with my -well never mind that, just know I was lookin fly. She was wearing that uniform, and you know what I mean by wearing that uniform. I wanted to read her nametag; it must’ve fallen off. Her innocence was showing and the wolves in the diner could smell it a mile up the road. A small boy walked in clutching a bag from a gas station. He walked straight to the bar, sat down, took out a book and a pencil that looked far too long for him to be able to hold. He silently started to write in his book. She walked up to him, ruffled his hair a bit & then snuck a quick kiss onto his temporarily exposed forehead & then headed back behind the counter to check food orders. Suddenly, her uniform wasn’t being worn & her suburban style was more crack-whore chic. Her shining light faded. Now, there was an impure glow around her; that of the defiled rose, plucked from the garden too soon, her thorns weakened from fighting for survival, and though the petals still beautiful & picturesque: dying. I definitely knew her story now; not so cookie cutter clean. Probably had a fun times Jack-sipping step-dad, a dead-beat baby-daddy & more of a ‘I can’t get no satisfaction’ outlook on life – even though I’m sure she does try, try, try. On her shotgun wedding day, she married him at the local drive thru, she probably squealed with excitement for her payment plan wedding ring with her side of junky dive drama honeymoon.