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Date Posted: Sat, Dec 25 2004, 11:43am PST
Author: Maverick
Subject:
Well we lost it all, and we can't go back, I'm sorry I can't be perfect..




The young girl was something of a nomad, going from place to place, city to city - it had been years since she'd had anything that resembled a home - since her childhood, but you could hardly call that a home - this was the existence that she had chosen.

She'd just rolled in off of a grungy inter-city bus that had made a stop outside the front of the lodge - it's sides splashed with the undeniable plague of the travel through snow and slush - typical of the holiday season - her location of commencement was the lovely city of Bangor, Maine, and now here she was - ready for something else out of life, something a little more exciting, a little more fresh than the existence as a waitress that she'd experienced in the Northern part of the country, shacking up with Jay, making some money to "get herself back on her feet." It was a joke, though - Maverick would probably never get back "on her feet" - she wasn't sure that that state of being existed for such a hardluck, wrong-side-of the tracks girl like herself. She'd grown up in a home filled with welfare, and couldn't remember a Christmas Day better than this one that she was experiencing at the moment - a fresh start, a clean slate, better than any of the fifty cent toys and candies that her momma had ever purchased with her welfare money for their Christmases in her hometown of Flint.

The girl was a youngster by most means, but had experienced a lot more in her short twenty-one years than just about any other kid of her age could account for - her face still showed the youth, unmarred by the years of hardship, surprisingly enough. She was lucky, she supposed, her no-good, gap toothed daddy had always told her all she had was her face, that she wouldn't amount to much more than a pretty face, and a few years of a shapely body, until she settled down, got married and let herself go, develop an ass like a sacful of wet clothes, and for her teeth to get yellowed and dull. For now, she stood a good five-ten, her blonde hair shaggy, but in good condition, falling in a curtain around her narrow shoulders - her bangs were in order for a cut, but she'd have to wait until she found a job to look after that - the wisps of blonde brushed the fringe of eyelash that bannered her jeweled blue eyes. She wore a fitted and buttoned down flannel shirt, a couple of buttons missed their mark near the top and bottom and exposed a triangle-shaped slice of tanned, smooth skin, at her throat, and near her navel. A pair of raggedy, well worn, and well fitted Levi's clung to her hips, and cupped her shapely legs until they flared lightly halfway down the calf, covering a pair of equally worn and well-used tennis shoes which were fringed and iced in the slush from the bus. One lone duffle bag hung over her shoulder, all of her worldy posessions were inside - she carried what she needed and that was it. Pressing her lips together, she let the door fall shut behind her - it was freezing and she was grateful for the warmth.

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