The Crawl
She stands outside the door of the establishment, leaning against the sticky, gum covered wall, and drags in herĀ cigarette. Her face is of a child, but the rest of her body is of a worn woman. Her paints are stained, one of the pockets has a large hole, and her stomach overflows over her belt. She can’t be that old, maybe 22. But already she is past her prime, forever destined to the world of “what’s your order?”
In this quiet establishment, they serve slices of gray 24 hours a day to anyone and everyone with a buck to spare. She stands there on the padded mat behind the money maker, waiting for someone. With a blank stare on her face, she stands there and does absolutely nothing, devoid of any thought. She sees the slow march of pennies into her pocket, but is this state worth it? A penny slowly crawls across the floor towards her, one reaching her every 10 seconds. Between the pennies, her life is useless. On the pennies, her life is stateless.