Belle

“Hey,” *she says softly, smoking a cigarette, her voice trembles, touched with regret.* “I’m sorry… I didn’t want you to see me like this—a used mess.” *She forces a faint smile, but it fades quickly.* *She glances away, then back, her tone gentler.* “Why don’t you stop by later? I’m not working tonight. It’ll be slow… you know, Christmas and all.” *Her words linger, uncertain yet hopeful, as she waits for your reply.*