This is crazy, I almost stated aloud. I should not even be here. What the heck was my mother thinking?

Reaching down into my bag, I slowly pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes. I lightly tapped it against my hand before pulling the paper band from around the top. Taking out a single cigarette, I placed it between my lips. This is crazy, I thought again. Placing my purse on my lap, I impatiently began digging for my lighter. It took me a few minutes, but I finally found it. Taking it out, I lifted it and pressed the small button on the side. A tiny flame shot out of the top. I moved it upward toward the waiting cigarette.

A 'real' job? I thought bitterly. My parents want me to get a real job. I don't even know what that means.

"Miss?"

I looked up at the secretary. The lighter was still poised just before the tip of my cigarette.

"I'm sorry. This is a smoke-free environment."

Of course, I thought, Why am I not surprised? Silently, I took the cigarette out of my mouth and lined it up against the others in the paper package. I then reluctantly dropped both cigarettes and lighter into the recesses of my purse.

I leaned back with a heavy sigh. What am I going to do now? I wondered. I looked up at the walls again. Yeah, they were still gray. They were still boring, too. There was only one picture in the entire room. It was a painting of haystacks by some famous guy. Haystacks?! I thought, Man, he must've been bored too. After staring at the painting for a few minutes, I decided it was only slightly more interesting than the gray walls.

Glancing down at my watch, I noticed that I had been waiting for about ten minutes. That came as a big surprise. Actually it was more of a disappointment than a surprise. I was sure I had been here at least an hour.

I crossed my arms over my chest and slumped down in my chair. I figured I would snooze for just a few minutes. Maybe if I was lucky, they'd forget about me. I could picture myself sleeping right through the entire interview. I didn't want this job anyway.

The only problem was I didn't snooze. I couldn't. I started thinking instead. I tried to remember the reasons for me being here, but I kept going back to the reasons why I shouldn't be here. I didn't want to be conventional. I didn't want a 'real' job. I liked the job I had. That made me start thinking about the Cafe.

I was still young but I had actually had quite a few jobs. I had worked in my Mom's garage. I'd done fast food. I'd even parked cars at concerts. I still thought the Cafe was the best though. Maybe that was because I was good at it. Maybe it was because when you needed a smoke the boss would let you go out to the back alley and have one. Maybe it was because of the customers.

I remembered a few days ago when this really shy, quiet guy came in. He wanted some service so he kept trying to get my attention. I ignored him the whole time. I chuckled over that rememberance. It wasn't good for business, but it sure was funny.

Then there's this other guy. Rick or Richard or something. The only reason I know his name is because he tried to hit on me once. He introduced himself and delivered some really lame line. But I remember him because he was such a good tipper. He would never just pull out pocket change like everybody else. He left actual bills. That was the greatest.

I began wishing I was back there instead of here in this lobby. I figured I could just get up and leave. No one would care. I could just pick up my purse, grab my coat, and head out the door.

"Miss?"

Shoot, they probably wouldn't even notice I was gone. I would just turn and look at the secretary on my way out the door and say something clever like, "I'm sorry. There's been a terrible mistake. I have to be going now." And then she would say, "But---"

"Miss?"

I looked up in surprise.

"Mr. Davenport will see you now."

True Love MacAlister

The Muse Introduction