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Mother F*cker
She stared down at the medium-sized box in her hands. Luckily being strong was her strong suit; it's not like this was her dream job or anything. Then again, she was pretty sure they didn't pay for what she dreamed of doing.
She walked out the door with her head held high, giving the large concrete building one last look. Good riddance, it's not like she was going to miss that place—just her boss's sweet ass and her best friend, Ella.
Mentally she scolded herself. Thinking about 'him' is what had got her in this mess in the first place. Walking to the parking lot, she clicked the fob to unlock her beat-up Malibu. One thing was for sure it had seen its better days. The red paint was slowly fading from sun exposure, and it didn't help the dent in the driver's side door, scratched with yellow paint. The moral of the story don't park so close to a pole.
She sat in her driver's side seat, allowing only a moment for the dread to set in. Bills, bills, and more bi
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