"Thinking of you made me feel alone..."
Mo didn't care, how could she? You could say she acted aimlessly and destructive but that was who she was. No longer an act they thought she would grow out of. You smacked her, she became the smack. You hurt her, she thrived from the pain. Living as a sponge of sorrow that no one could squeeze her from.
1738 Oxford Ave.
A pretty decent apartment, two bedrooms, two bath, one Mo.
In the morning she scraped her body up and tossed it into the shower.
"Isn't it cold?"
"Hush, don't say a word."
The water caressed her, she pressed her fingers into her sides. She left before they pruned. Droplets still sunk into crevasses, they favored the collar bones.
Mornings, not a friend of Mo's. Sheepishly getting ready, she sipped coffee. Never black, she was too weak for that. Cream filled her mind anyways.
"Off to work."
"Don't be a slut."
Mo left her apartment, locked the door twice. Counting her steps down the stairs. Her hair was still damp. Boots hit the gravel, the air was foggy. Downtown was busy, loud, distracting. She enjoyed that. Her head was quiet. Two blocks, south. A small building was portrayed from the outside. But oh, was it so much bigger inside. Chic, heroine chic. That's how she judged it. The little coffee shop attracted hipsters mostly, the very quiet, and the casual tumblr kids who took pictures of their beverages in low light. That was only during the day, at night, it was a club. Behind the coffee shop scenery there was a wreck room. Well known as a matter o' fact. She dreaded the nights the most.
Entering her job, she kept her head low.
"Baby doll, chin up. Your cheeks are big, they sag when you lower them like that."
Her boss greeted her. Tall women, curvaceous, luring voice. Jillian.
"Hello Jillian, I came by early to tell you I won't be able to do the night shift tonight."
Warm hands grabbed Mo's face.
"Why?" Jillian pressed.
"I have a family matter, please."
"Mo, you live alone. You barely mention your family. What's really going on?" Jillian caught her.
"I-i have to take care of something very important, please.."
Jillian let go of her, her voice not so soothing and coaxed, she whispered in her ear.
"No."
Mo nodded, head low again. She made her way behind the counter. Steaming milk alone and starting her day. Why she didn't clock in? She never gets paid during the day.
"I'm sorry."
"You should of fought her."
Mo wanted to burn her hand with the steam coming from the pot, nothing seemed to wake her up from this trance. She tightened the apron around her waisted. Looking up she gazed at her co-worker.
Skinny boy, cute lip piercing, dimples. Marcus.
He was flimsy which gave her anxiety but made up for it by his great memory, and attitude towards costumers.
"Good morning smiles, why such a long face?" He purred.
"I'm not sure."
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