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Her deep green eyes peer up from the cash register. Their sharp color captivates me for a few seconds. "Sir, what would you like to order?" she says, almost as in a hushed whisper. "I'll have a number three." I respond stammering. Even with the smell of the sizzling hamburgers on the grill, her perfume jumps out at me. She's not wearing too much, yet the sweet cream puff scent lingers in the air.

As I pay for my food, I notice a gold chain on her neck. Not wanting her to think I'm a creep, I only take a quick look. The pendent reads "#1 MOM". I'm shocked. She doesn't look a day over 23.

As she walks to gather my meal, her gold chandelier style earrings make a slight jingle. The thin and lean chains resemble her figure. With muscles to boot, she walks with the grace of a competitive pole vaulter. Yet, her funky flat top gives her a different look. The Harlem-style princess quickly hands me a paper bag covered with golden arches. I can feel the warmth of my large fries slipping through. Without hesitation, she quickly squeaks out a "Have a nice day!"

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submitted at 2:32am

12 March 2011

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