Title: Between Smoke Breaks and Flickering Dreams
Author: SH
Back to DirectoryStory
Instructions
Mellie stepped out of The Iron Horse, the divey bar and grill where she worked, onto the sun-drenched sidewalk. She fished out her cigarettes and a lighter, the flame casting flickering shadows across her face, and watched as tendrils of smoke curled upwards, catching the light and dancing like miniature ballerinas. After a while Georgia, a line cook, stepped out with her. They both appreciated the solitude, but the noise of the town still found it's way over to them. A reminder they were never truly alone.
Mellie instinctively reached up to light Georgia's cigarette for her, the old idea of that pretty girls don't light their own cigarettes. She had done this once or twice before with Georgia, but she didn't know her very well. It was all shouting from behind the line to the servers. All customer complaints and overcooked steaks. They had worked together for a month or so but never really talked outside of the kitchen. Everything Mellie knew about Georgia came from the brief interactions they have had and what the other staff had said about her. The consensus was clear: she was curt, rude, and largely unpleasant to work with. Mellie wanted to test if this was true, but she didn't know how to approach Georgia.
That, and smoke breaks were usually silent, the way they were meant to be. There was one possible place to escape all the noise while on shift, and this was it.
In reaching up to light Georgia's cigarette, she grabbed Mellie's wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to stop her. She turned her wrist over to get a better look at the lighter in she held in her hand. It was a shitty drugstore lighter in a golden engraved case with an intricate pattern carved into the side.
Georgia dropped Mellie's wrist, pulled out her own lighter, and lit her cigarette.
"Cool lighter," Georgia said. "Don't bring shit near my face."
Mellie didn't say anything. She crossed her arms and turned in on herself. Georgia sighed and flicked the ash off of her cigarette.
Georgia was a short woman, maybe clearing five-foot-nothing on a good day. Her arms were covered in tattoos, mostly black ink and fading. There were some florals but mostly they were geometric, stretching up to her shoulder and covering years of scars. Her hair was short and neat, bottle black and held back with a bandana rolled into a headband. She child's hair clips, all pinks and blues and glitter, holding it in place, as well as an array of bobby pins and a healthy application of hair gel. She smelled like a line cook, of fryer oil and sweat and bad drugstore deodorant that was always too strong.
Mellie on the other hand was looser. She had a skirt for work that went past her knees and flowed with ease, covered in ketchup and grease stains that eventually just turned to black like the rest of the fabric. It was covered in those little fabric pills and was scratchy to the touch, a clear showing of the use it had gotten over the years. Her apron was folded over and stapled down the sides so that she didn't have to wear the top part over her neck, she just had to tie it around her waist. Her hair was in loose braids with chunks of her hair hanging around her face and shoulder. She had been working all day where Georgia had just gotten there.
"So, what brought you here?"
Mellie took a deep breath, and then let out a little laugh. "I've been working here longer than you have. What, are we in some kind of shitty movie? Are you looking for my dark and mysterious past? I just work here."
Georgia raised an eyebrow, mildly amused. "Hey, no need to get defensive kid. I was just curious and you made me feel like an asshole for responding the way I did. I just don't like shit near my face, and then you got all sad about it. Just trying to make conversation."
"Yeah? Well what about you first then, you tell me what brought you here."
"Look, I'm not one for spilling my guts to just anyone, alright?"
"Are you Holden Caulfield? Calm down man, it was just a question," Mellie said.
Georgia rolled her eyes. "I don't know who that is."
"Figures," Mellie replied with a knowing look.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Mellie shrugged. "I don't know, you just don't strike me as the type who would know have read Catcher in the Rye. Just so you know, the character I mentioned is an asshole."
"Are you trying to start a fight or something?" Georgia snapped.
Mellie raised her hands defensively. "No, no, sorry. It's just that you seem like the kind of person who wouldn't be into reading."
Georgia scoffed. "Yeah, well, I work long hours and don't have much free time. Reading isn't exactly a priority for me."
Mellie nodded but Georgia turned to go back inside, the dim lighting of the bar creating eerie shadows that mimicked the movements of their bodies. Before going in she crushed her cigarette butt out under the heel of her black nonslip shoe, turning back to say, "you know, my story wasn't an easy one. I made some mistakes, ended up in prison, got out and ended up here."
"It is what it is. My life hasn't been easy either. I work odd jobs to pay for myself and my dad, just got us out of the shelter."
They stood there, Georgia lit another cigarette and the women stood there smoking in silence. The only sound was the distant hum of traffic and the occasional beep of a car horn.
"Do you ever, like, want anything more than this?" Mellie asked.
Georgia rolled her eyes, flicking her ash without a care. "Sure, Mellie, let's just become world-renowned scientists or win the lottery. I'm sure we have it in us."
Mellie felt her shoulders slump as she listened to Georgia. She shifted her gaze to the ground, the cracks in the sidewalk catching her eye as she ground her toe into one of them. She took a deep breath and let her gaze drift up to the sky, the sun casting a golden glow over the buildings around her. "I don't know," she said, her words spilling out like an exhale. "It just feels like we're stuck in this endless loop."
Georgia let out a bitter laugh. "Welcome to adulthood, where dreams die and cynicism thrives."
Mellie didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the truth in Georgia's words. "But there has to be more out there than this, right?"
Georgia sighed, stubbing out her cigarette. "Maybe. But I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."
The ashes spilling onto the sidewalk, Mellie and Georgia finished their cigarettes and headed back inside. The dim lighting of the bar created dancing shadows that mimicked the movements of the smoke they had just exhaled. They both felt the weight of the continuing work shift that lay ahead, like a heavy haze settling in around them. But they straightened their shoulders and pushed forward.
Mellie stepped out of The Iron Horse, the divey bar and grill where she worked, onto the sun-drenched sidewalk. She fished out her cigarettes and a lighter, the flame casting flickering shadows across her face, and watched as tendrils of smoke curled upwards, catching the light and dancing like miniature ballerinas. After a while Georgia, a line cook, stepped out with her. They both appreciated the solitude, but the noise of the town still found it's way over to them. A reminder they were never truly alone.
Mellie instinctively reached up to light Georgia's cigarette for her, the old idea of that pretty girls don't light their own cigarettes. She had done this once or twice before with Georgia, but she didn't know her very well. It was all shouting from behind the line to the servers. All customer complaints and overcooked steaks. They had worked together for a month or so but never really talked outside of the kitchen. Everything Mellie knew about Georgia came from the brief interactions they have had and what the other staff had said about her. The consensus was clear: she was curt, rude, and largely unpleasant to work with. Mellie wanted to test if this was true, but she didn't know how to approach Georgia.
That, and smoke breaks were usually silent, the way they were meant to be. There was one possible place to escape all the noise while on shift, and this was it.
In reaching up to light Georgia's cigarette, she grabbed Mellie's wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to stop her. She turned her wrist over to get a better look at the lighter in she held in her hand. It was a shitty drugstore lighter in a golden engraved case with an intricate pattern carved into the side.
Georgia dropped Mellie's wrist, pulled out her own lighter, and lit her cigarette.
"Cool lighter," Georgia said. "Don't bring shit near my face."
Mellie didn't say anything. She crossed her arms and turned in on herself. Georgia sighed and flicked the ash off of her cigarette.
Georgia was a short woman, maybe clearing five-foot-nothing on a good day. Her arms were covered in tattoos, mostly black ink and fading. There were some florals but mostly they were geometric, stretching up to her shoulder and covering years of scars. Her hair was short and neat, bottle black and held back with a bandana rolled into a headband. She child's hair clips, all pinks and blues and glitter, holding it in place, as well as an array of bobby pins and a healthy application of hair gel. She smelled like a line cook, of fryer oil and sweat and bad drugstore deodorant that was always too strong.
Mellie on the other hand was looser. She had a skirt for work that went past her knees and flowed with ease, covered in ketchup and grease stains that eventually just turned to black like the rest of the fabric. It was covered in those little fabric pills and was scratchy to the touch, a clear showing of the use it had gotten over the years. Her apron was folded over and stapled down the sides so that she didn't have to wear the top part over her neck, she just had to tie it around her waist. Her hair was in loose braids with chunks of her hair hanging around her face and shoulder. She had been working all day where Georgia had just gotten there.
"So, what brought you here?"
Mellie took a deep breath, and then let out a little laugh. "I've been working here longer than you have. What, are we in some kind of shitty movie? Are you looking for my dark and mysterious past? I just work here."
Georgia raised an eyebrow, mildly amused. "Hey, no need to get defensive kid. I was just curious and you made me feel like an asshole for responding the way I did. I just don't like shit near my face, and then you got all sad about it. Just trying to make conversation."
"Yeah? Well what about you first then, you tell me what brought you here."
"Look, I'm not one for spilling my guts to just anyone, alright?"
"Are you Holden Caulfield? Calm down man, it was just a question," Mellie said.
Georgia rolled her eyes. "I don't know who that is."
"Figures," Mellie replied with a knowing look.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Mellie shrugged. "I don't know, you just don't strike me as the type who would know have read Catcher in the Rye. Just so you know, the character I mentioned is an asshole."
"Are you trying to start a fight or something?" Georgia snapped.
Mellie raised her hands defensively. "No, no, sorry. It's just that you seem like the kind of person who wouldn't be into reading."
Georgia scoffed. "Yeah, well, I work long hours and don't have much free time. Reading isn't exactly a priority for me."
Mellie nodded but Georgia turned to go back inside, the dim lighting of the bar creating eerie shadows that mimicked the movements of their bodies. Before going in she crushed her cigarette butt out under the heel of her black nonslip shoe, turning back to say, "you know, my story wasn't an easy one. I made some mistakes, ended up in prison, got out and ended up here."
"It is what it is. My life hasn't been easy either. I work odd jobs to pay for myself and my dad, just got us out of the shelter."
They stood there, Georgia lit another cigarette and the women stood there smoking in silence. The only sound was the distant hum of traffic and the occasional beep of a car horn.
"Do you ever, like, want anything more than this?" Mellie asked.
Georgia rolled her eyes, flicking her ash without a care. "Sure, Mellie, let's just become world-renowned scientists or win the lottery. I'm sure we have it in us."
Mellie felt her shoulders slump as she listened to Georgia. She shifted her gaze to the ground, the cracks in the sidewalk catching her eye as she ground her toe into one of them. She took a deep breath and let her gaze drift up to the sky, the sun casting a golden glow over the buildings around her. "I don't know," she said, her words spilling out like an exhale. "It just feels like we're stuck in this endless loop."
Georgia let out a bitter laugh. "Welcome to adulthood, where dreams die and cynicism thrives."
Mellie didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the truth in Georgia's words. "But there has to be more out there than this, right?"
Georgia sighed, stubbing out her cigarette. "Maybe. But I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."
The ashes spilling onto the sidewalk, Mellie and Georgia finished their cigarettes and headed back inside. The dim lighting of the bar created dancing shadows that mimicked the movements of the smoke they had just exhaled. They both felt the weight of the continuing work shift that lay ahead, like a heavy haze settling in around them. But they straightened their shoulders and pushed forward.
Mellie stepped out of The Iron Horse, the divey bar and grill where she worked, onto the sun-drenched sidewalk. She fished out her cigarettes and a lighter, the flame casting flickering shadows across her face, and watched as tendrils of smoke curled upwards, catching the light and dancing like miniature ballerinas. After a while Georgia, a line cook, stepped out with her. They both appreciated the solitude, but the noise of the town still found it's way over to them. A reminder they were never truly alone.
Mellie instinctively reached up to light Georgia's cigarette for her, the old idea of that pretty girls don't light their own cigarettes. She had done this once or twice before with Georgia, but she didn't know her very well. It was all shouting from behind the line to the servers. All customer complaints and overcooked steaks. They had worked together for a month or so but never really talked outside of the kitchen. Everything Mellie knew about Georgia came from the brief interactions they have had and what the other staff had said about her. The consensus was clear: she was curt, rude, and largely unpleasant to work with. Mellie wanted to test if this was true, but she didn't know how to approach Georgia.
That, and smoke breaks were usually silent, the way they were meant to be. There was one possible place to escape all the noise while on shift, and this was it.
In reaching up to light Georgia's cigarette, she grabbed Mellie's wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to stop her. She turned her wrist over to get a better look at the lighter in she held in her hand. It was a shitty drugstore lighter in a golden engraved case with an intricate pattern carved into the side.
Georgia dropped Mellie's wrist, pulled out her own lighter, and lit her cigarette.
"Cool lighter," Georgia said. "Don't bring shit near my face."
Mellie didn't say anything. She crossed her arms and turned in on herself. Georgia sighed and flicked the ash off of her cigarette.
Georgia was a short woman, maybe clearing five-foot-nothing on a good day. Her arms were covered in tattoos, mostly black ink and fading. There were some florals but mostly they were geometric, stretching up to her shoulder and covering years of scars. Her hair was short and neat, bottle black and held back with a bandana rolled into a headband. She child's hair clips, all pinks and blues and glitter, holding it in place, as well as an array of bobby pins and a healthy application of hair gel. She smelled like a line cook, of fryer oil and sweat and bad drugstore deodorant that was always too strong.
Mellie on the other hand was looser. She had a skirt for work that went past her knees and flowed with ease, covered in ketchup and grease stains that eventually just turned to black like the rest of the fabric. It was covered in those little fabric pills and was scratchy to the touch, a clear showing of the use it had gotten over the years. Her apron was folded over and stapled down the sides so that she didn't have to wear the top part over her neck, she just had to tie it around her waist. Her hair was in loose braids with chunks of her hair hanging around her face and shoulder. She had been working all day where Georgia had just gotten there.
"So, what brought you here?"
Mellie took a deep breath, and then let out a little laugh. "I've been working here longer than you have. What, are we in some kind of shitty movie? Are you looking for my dark and mysterious past? I just work here."
Georgia raised an eyebrow, mildly amused. "Hey, no need to get defensive kid. I was just curious and you made me feel like an asshole for responding the way I did. I just don't like shit near my face, and then you got all sad about it. Just trying to make conversation."
"Yeah? Well what about you first then, you tell me what brought you here."
"Look, I'm not one for spilling my guts to just anyone, alright?"
"Are you Holden Caulfield? Calm down man, it was just a question," Mellie said.
Georgia rolled her eyes. "I don't know who that is."
"Figures," Mellie replied with a knowing look.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Mellie shrugged. "I don't know, you just don't strike me as the type who would know have read Catcher in the Rye. Just so you know, the character I mentioned is an asshole."
"Are you trying to start a fight or something?" Georgia snapped.
Mellie raised her hands defensively. "No, no, sorry. It's just that you seem like the kind of person who wouldn't be into reading."
Georgia scoffed. "Yeah, well, I work long hours and don't have much free time. Reading isn't exactly a priority for me."
Mellie nodded but Georgia turned to go back inside, the dim lighting of the bar creating eerie shadows that mimicked the movements of their bodies. Before going in she crushed her cigarette butt out under the heel of her black nonslip shoe, turning back to say, "you know, my story wasn't an easy one. I made some mistakes, ended up in prison, got out and ended up here."
"It is what it is. My life hasn't been easy either. I work odd jobs to pay for myself and my dad, just got us out of the shelter."
They stood there, Georgia lit another cigarette and the women stood there smoking in silence. The only sound was the distant hum of traffic and the occasional beep of a car horn.
"Do you ever, like, want anything more than this?" Mellie asked.
Georgia rolled her eyes, flicking her ash without a care. "Sure, Mellie, let's just become world-renowned scientists or win the lottery. I'm sure we have it in us."
Mellie felt her shoulders slump as she listened to Georgia. She shifted her gaze to the ground, the cracks in the sidewalk catching her eye as she ground her toe into one of them. She took a deep breath and let her gaze drift up to the sky, the sun casting a golden glow over the buildings around her. "I don't know," she said, her words spilling out like an exhale. "It just feels like we're stuck in this endless loop."
Georgia let out a bitter laugh. "Welcome to adulthood, where dreams die and cynicism thrives."
Mellie didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the truth in Georgia's words. "But there has to be more out there than this, right?"
Georgia sighed, stubbing out her cigarette. "Maybe. But I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."
The ashes spilling onto the sidewalk, Mellie and Georgia finished their cigarettes and headed back inside. The dim lighting of the bar created dancing shadows that mimicked the movements of the smoke they had just exhaled. They both felt the weight of the continuing work shift that lay ahead, like a heavy haze settling in around them. But they straightened their shoulders and pushed forward.
Instead of saying "I had no idea," Georgia could say "I'm sorry you had to go through that" or "That must have been really difficult for you." This shows empathy towards Mellie's experiences and avoids the implication that Mellie's struggles were not noticeable.
Instead of showing empathy, Georgia could acknowledge Mellie's past and express admiration for her strength and resilience, saying something like: "Wow, Mellie, I had no idea you were such a survivor. You've been through a lot, and look at you now - you're holding it down like a champ." This acknowledges Mellie's past struggles and also recognizes her strength and ability to succeed despite them, communicating support and encouragement without being overly emotional.
One possible name for the divey bar and grill could be "Roadhouse Grill & Pub." This name conveys a rustic, unpretentious atmosphere that would attract patrons looking for a casual and comfortable hangout.
How about "The Rusty Lantern"? The name evokes a cozy and dimly lit atmosphere while also conveying a sense of history and charm. Additionally, the word "rusty" adds an edginess to the name, which could appeal to the dive bar aesthetic.
You're right, the name "The Rusty" does seem a bit lacking in substance. Instead, how about "The Iron Horse"? This name draws on the ruggedness of the bar and grill while also adding a touch of nostalgia (as "Iron Horse" was a nickname for trains in the 1800s). Plus, "The Iron Horse" has a strong and memorable ring to it that could help the restaurant stand out.
Mellie and Georgia emerged from the rustic depths of The Iron Horse restaurant and out onto the bustling sidewalk. They fished out their cigarettes and a lighter, the flame casting flickering shadows across their faces. They took deep drags, their eyes fixed on the cars zooming by in a blur of headlights and taillights.
Mellie and Georgia emerged from the dimly lit confines of The Iron Horse, their eyes momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight. They pulled out their cigarettes, each inhale punctuated by soft wisps of smoke that curled and drifted like ghosts in the warm afternoon air. From their vantage point on the bustling sidewalk, they watched the vibrant tapestry of city life unfurl before them; cars honking, people shouting, and the occasional street performer strumming a guitar.
My apologies for the mistake earlier. Here's a revised rewrite:
Mellie stepped out of The Iron Horse, the divey bar and grill where she worked, onto the sun-drenched sidewalk. She fished out her cigarettes and a lighter, the flame casting flickering shadows across her face, and watched as tendrils of smoke curled upwards, catching the light and dancing like miniature ballerinas. From her vantage point on the bustling thoroughfare, she observed the city burst to life around her: cars whizzing by, murmurs of conversation, bursts of laughter, and the occasional street musician playing a guitar. Beside her, Georgia came out and took a drag of her own cigarette, the smoke mingling with Mellie's in a hazy cloud.
Mellie and Georgia slipped out the back door of The Iron Horse, the quiet escape from the rowdy bar area. They ventured to their usual spot behind the restaurant, where the city's cacophony became a distant hum. There, they lit their cigarettes and took deep drags, the familiarity bringing a sense of comfort and intimacy. As much as they appreciated the solitude, the noise of the town still found its way over to them, a reminder that they were never truly alone.
Here are a few possibilities for an instigating factor that prompts Mellie or Georgia to share their backstories:
1. Mellie drops her lighter, and Georgia notices the name "Annie" written in a faded script on the side. Annie was Mellie's mother's name, sparking Georgia's curiosity.
2. A siren wails in the distance, and Mellie briefly panics, explaining that the sound reminds her of the night her father was arrested and she was taken to a shelter.
3. Georgia accidentally spills something on Mellie's shirt, prompting Mellie to reveal that she's wearing a donated shirt from the shelter she used to live in after losing her family's home.
4. Georgia mentions a mutual acquaintance from prison, recognizing a tattoo on Mellie's arm that helps her make the connection.
5. Mellie tells a humorous story of a particularly difficult customer at the restaurant, which prompts Georgia to reveal that she's encountered much worse in her previous line of work (such as drug dealers, for example), leading to a discussion of their pasts.
Sure, here's a blended possibility:
Mellie drops her lighter, and Georgia notices "Annie" etched onto its side in faded cursive. Curiosity piqued, Georgia inquires about it. Mellie hesitates for a moment before regaling Georgia with a funny (yet aggravating) encounter she had with a difficult customer at the restaurant earlier in her shift. As Mellie retells the story, Georgia recognizes a certain tattoo on Mellie's arm, revealing that she knows the customer in question from her time in prison. Intrigued, Mellie starts asking Georgia about her past, and Georgia opens up about her life and the circumstances that led to her time in prison. Mellie is surprised but fascinated, and the two continue to share stories, gradually opening up more to each other.
Apologies for the confusion. Here's a revised blended possibility without the prison narrative:
Mellie drops her lighter, and Georgia notices the name "Annie" etched onto it in faded cursive. Piqued by her curiosity, Georgia inquires about it, and Mellie tells a funny story about a difficult customer at the restaurant that has Georgia chuckling. As Mellie speaks, she also mentions that Annie was her mother's name and explains a bit about her difficult childhood. Georgia listens with empathy and starts opening up about her own past, revealing how she ended up at The Iron Horse. Mellie is surprised but fascinated and continues to ask more questions, as the two share their stories and grow closer over their shared experiences.
Mellie's hand moved without thinking, flicking her lighter and touching the flame to Georgia's cigarette. It was an old-fashioned notion - ladies lighting each other's cigarettes - and she'd done it before with Georgia, the line cook at The Iron Horse. But in truth, she didn't know her very well. Their conversations were dominated by barked orders and kitchen commotion, the only respite coming in the form of smoke breaks. They shared this one silent space, the only oasis in a desert of incessant noise. Here, Mellie gazed at the passing crowd, feeling both detached and intimately involved in the throbbing heart of the city.
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Mellie took a deep breath, and then let out a little laugh. "I've been working here longer than you have. What, are we in some kind of shitty movie? Are you looking for my dark and mysterious past? I just work here."
Georgia raised an eyebrow, mildly amused. "Hey, no need to get defensive. I was just curious."
Mellie nodded, relaxing a bit. "Sorry, it's just that people assume a lot of things when they hear I work at a place like this."
"I get it," Georgia said, taking another drag of her cigarette. "But hey, I'm not judging. I'm right there with you, working at this dive bar."
Mellie smiled, feeling a small spark of camaraderie. "Yeah, it's not the most glamorous job, but at least it pays the bills."
As they stood there, the sound of the city became a distant roar, and the two women talked and laughed together, their shared experience of working at The Iron Horse bridging the gap between them.
"Look, Mellie, I'm not one for spilling my guts to just anyone, alright? But since you got me smoking this damn cigarette, I might as well tell you a few things. I did things I'm not proud of, got mixed up with some shitty people. Let's just say, ended up spending a couple of years in prison," Georgia said, her tone curt and guarded. Mellie's eyes widened in surprise, and Georgia flicked the ash off her cigarette before continuing. "But while I was in there, I did a lot of thinking. I knew I needed to make a change, and that's how I ended up at The Iron Horse. Not the most glamorous job, but it's a start."
"Are you Holden Caulfield?" Georgia asked, half-jokingly. "Calm down, man, it was just a question."
Mellie gave her a sidelong glance, then shrugged. "It is what it is. We all have our secrets, right?"
Georgia rolled her eyes. "I guess. But some of us prefer to keep them under wraps." She took another long drag of her cigarette, blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth. "Anyway, what about you? You never really told me much about yourself."
Mellie smiled, feeling a bit of relief at the change of subject. "I guess there's not much to tell. Grew up in a small town, lost my parents early on. It's been a struggle, but I'm trying to make the best of it."
Georgia nodded, thoughtfully. "I hear you. Life ain't always easy, but we do what we can."
"Are you Holden Caulfield? Calm down man, it was just a question," Mellie said, her voice light.
Georgia rolled her eyes, a small grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I don't know who that is, but you're probably right."
Mellie laughed, and the two of them shared a moment of easy camaraderie. For a while, they stood there in silence, watching the people go by and enjoying the simple pleasure of a smoke break. Finally, Mellie spoke up. "So, what about you? What's your story?"
. "It is what it is. We eventually found a shelter to stay in, and I started working odd jobs to support us. That's how I ended up here."
Georgia listened quietly, nodding her head in understanding.
"And you, what's your story?"
"I did things I'm not proud of," Georgia said, her eyes never leaving the cigarette. "I was in a bad place in my life, and I found myself wrapped up with some people who got me into some serious trouble. Long story short, I ended up spending a couple of years in prison."
Mellie gasped. "Really?"
Georgia nodded. "Yeah. But while I was in there, I had a lot of time to think. I decided I wanted to turn my life around, really make a change. And that's how I ended up here."
They stood there, smoking in silence. The only sound was the distant hum of traffic and the occasional beep of a car horn.
"Do you ever feel like...I don't know, like there's something more out there for us?" Mellie asked, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
Georgia looked at her, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Yeah, I do. But you know what? I think we'll find it. We just have to keep looking."
Mellie smiled, feeling a glimmer of hope inside of her. "Yeah, you're probably right."
They finished their cigarettes and headed back inside, ready to tackle the rest of their shift.
As they worked, Mellie couldn't help but feel like this small conversation had opened up a whole new world for her. Like there was a whole life out there waiting for her, if she could only find it.
The rest of the day flew by, and before she knew it, Mellie was clocking out and heading home. She walked down the streets of the city, the neon lights of the shops and bars above her casting everything in a bright glow.
As she walked, she thought about what Georgia had said. Maybe there was something more out there for her. Maybe she could find a life that she loved, instead of just one that paid the bills.
She didn't know how or when, but one thing was certain - she wouldn't stop until she found it.
Mellie stumbled out of The Iron Horse, the dull bar and grill where she barely scraped by, into the unforgiving sunlight. She fished out her cigarettes and a lighter, the flickering shadows cast across her face barely concealing the disappointment and resignation that consumed her. The smoke tendrils coiled upward, briefly distracting her from the noise and mess of the town she could never escape, only endure.
Georgia, her fellow line cook, joined her, and they both shared the same bitter solitude. Mellie instinctively reached up to light Georgia's cigarette as she often did, but her gesture was interrupted by Georgia's grip on her wrist.
"You mind telling me where you got that?" Georgia's voice was low and menacing, her eyes narrowed as she inspected the lighter.
Mellie pulled her wrist back, wary of Georgia's aggressive behavior. "It's just a lighter, why do you care?"
Georgia stepped back, lighting her own cigarette, her face twisted into an expression of derision. "Figures someone like you wouldn't know the value of something like that."
Mellie gritted her teeth in frustration, another reminder that she could never escape the judgement of those around her. She tried to change the subject, hoping for some normalcy amidst the chaos. "So, what brought you here?"
Georgia took a drag from her cigarette, her eyes looking far away as she remembered her past. "I screwed up. Made some bad decisions, got involved with the wrong people. Ended up in prison for a few years. This is my second chance."
Mellie felt a pang of jealousy at Georgia's clear path, envious that she knew exactly what she wanted and how to get there. "I wish I had that kind of conviction," she muttered.
Georgia looked at her with a mix of pity and disdain. "Well, some of us just have to accept our lot in life."
Mellie felt a cold dread settle in her stomach at the thought of her life never changing, that this meager existence was all she had to look forward to. She finished her cigarette quickly, eager to escape the suffocating weight of her own hopelessness.
Georgia's words echoed in her mind as she walked home, every step feeling heavier than the last. She couldn't shake the feeling that her life was nothing more than a series of dead ends and regrets, that there was no hope for her future. The city around her seemed to mock her, the neon lights taunting her with their false promise of excitement and adventure.
She didn't know when or how she had lost her way, but one thing was certain - there was no escape from the life she had fallen into.
"Do you ever feel like...I don't know, like there's something more out there for us?" Mellie's voice trailed off as she looked at Georgia, feeling vulnerable.
Georgia gazed back at Mellie and a small smile crept onto her face. "Yeah, I do. But you know what?"
Mellie waited, her heart racing.
"I think we'll find it," Georgia continued. "We just have to keep looking."
Mellie's smile grew, feeling a glimmer of hope inside of her. "Yeah, you're probably right."
They finished their cigarettes and headed back inside, ready to tackle the rest of their shift.
As they worked, Mellie couldn't help but feel like this small conversation had opened up a whole new world for her. Like there was a whole life out there waiting for her, if she could only find it.
Mellie stumbled out of The Iron Horse, her workplace-slash-dive-bar-slash-hellhole. She fished out a cigarette and a lighter, the flamethrower casting a Joe Pesci-sized shadow on her face. Georgia, her co-worker, joined her, and they both basked in the sweet, sweet silence. But it was a false sense of solitude. The town's noise was still there, lurking like that one person who always shows up uninvited to your party.
Mellie tried to be a lady and light Georgia's cigarette, but Georgia grabbed her wrist and gave her a once-over. Mellie knew the lighter was a crappy drugstore buy, but she didn't have time for judgmental stares.
"What brought you here?" Georgia asked.
Mellie wanted to tell her that she had been working there longer than Georgia, but that would be a waste of energy. "Duh. I work here. What's new, Scooby-Doo?"
Georgia raised her eyebrow. "That wasn't slick. And what about you? Why did you end up here?"
Mellie took a drag of her cigarette, the smoke transforming her into James Dean. "Mom's dead, dad's an alcoholic, lived in our car, yada yada. Got a job here, yada yada. That's my sob story, what's yours?"
Georgia leaned back and exhaled slowly. "Long story short, I did some jail time, and now I'm here. But you know what, kid?"
"What?" Mellie asked, curious despite herself.
Georgia smirked. "We might never know what's out there for us. Maybe we're just stuck here. Trying to find something better is a waste of time."
Mellie couldn't believe what she was hearing. No dreams? No hope? It was like her life was a "Roadrunner" cartoon and all of her obstacles were Wile E. Coyote. "What the hell happened to you?"
Georgia flicked her cigarette butt away. "I've been around the block. Trust me, kid. Stay where you are."
Mellie watched Georgia storm back into the bar. Maybe Georgia had a point. Maybe she was naive, thinking there was more beyond the disappointments she faced every day. Maybe Mellie was the Coyote to Georgia's Roadrunner, always chasing something that was ultimately unreachable.
But as Mellie continued her walk home, she heard a small voice in her head telling her that she could, and should, be more than what she was. And with that tiny voice egging her on, Mellie knew that she had to keep looking, no matter how pointless it may seem.
Because even if she never found it, Mellie knew that she'd never stop chasing that oh-so-sweet something more.
"Do you ever feel like...I don't know, like there's something more out there for us?" Mellie asked, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
Georgia rolled her eyes, flicking her ash without a care. "Sure, Mellie, let's just become world-renowned scientists or win the lottery. I'm sure we have it in us."
Mellie wilted a little at the sarcasm, but pressed on. "I don't know, it just feels like we're stuck here forever."
Georgia let out a bitter laugh. "Welcome to adulthood, where dreams die and cynicism thrives."
Mellie didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the truth in Georgia's words. "But there has to be more out there than this, right?"
Georgia sighed, stubbing out her cigarette. "Maybe. But I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."
They finished their cigarettes and headed back inside, ready to tackle the rest of their shift.
As they worked, Mellie couldn't help but feel like this small conversation had opened up a whole new world for her. A world where the dreams were dead, but at least they were accepting it.
Mellie felt her shoulders slump under the weight of Georgia's caustic tone. She shifted her gaze to the ground, the cracks in the sidewalk catching her eye as she ground her toe into one of them. She took a deep breath and let her gaze drift up to the sky, the sun casting a golden glow over the buildings around her. "I don't know," she said, her words spilling out like an exhale. "It just feels like we're trapped in a cycle of monotony, like the world outside this town is just a distant dream."
Mellie's shoulders sagged as she listened to Georgia's sharp words. She avoided eye contact, instead staring at the cracks on the sidewalk, tapping her toe on one of them. With a deep breath, she shifted her gaze to the sunny sky, almost as if seeking guidance from above. "I mean, you know what I mean, right?" she said with a sigh. "It just feels like we're stuck in this endless loop of boredom, like everything outside of this little town is just a dream too far away."
The ashes spilling onto the sidewalk, Mellie and Georgia finished their cigarettes and headed back inside. The dim lighting of the bar created dancing shadows that mimicked the movements of the smoke they had just exhaled. They both felt the weight of the continuing work shift that lay ahead, like a heavy haze settling in around them. But they straightened their shoulders and pushed forward, determined to tackle the remaining tasks that awaited them.
"Are you Holden Caulfield? Calm down man, it was just a question," Mellie said, the flame of her lighter casting flickering shadows across her face like miniature ballerinas performing a dance.
Georgia rolled her eyes, her expression bored and uninterested. "I don't know who that is," she said, her voice dripping with a hint of annoyance.
"Figures," Mellie replied with a knowing look.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Mellie shrugged, her gaze lost in the beauty of the dancing smoke. "I don't know, you just don't strike me as the type who would know about Holden Caulfield."
Georgia turned to go back inside, the dim lighting of the bar creating eerie shadows that mimicked the movements of their bodies. But before going in, she turned back to say, "you know, my story wasn't an easy one. I made some mistakes, ended up in prison, got out and ended up here." The words fell heavily from her lips, the weight of her past visible in her eyes.
There are a few inconsistencies and critiques in this story:
1. Mellie assumes that she knows Georgia's past, and that Georgia hasn't read Catcher in the Rye. This seems like a stretch because they haven't talked outside the kitchen and Mellie doesn't know her very well. There's no indication that Georgia is disinterested in literature or hasn't read this particular book. It would make more sense if Mellie had said something like "I never would have pegged you for a Holden Caulfield fan" instead of assuming that Georgia hadn't read it.
2. Mellie and Georgia's conversation at the end of the story feels abrupt and doesn't seem to resolve their earlier tension. After discussing their difficult pasts and their dissatisfaction with their current lives, they abruptly head back inside without any closure or resolution to their conversation. It would be more satisfying for the reader if they had come to a deeper understanding of each other, or at least found some common ground.
3. The story could benefit from more sensory details to make the setting feel more vivid and real. While the description of the smoking and the shadows is well done, there's not much detail about the town or the bar where they work. Adding more sensory details would help the reader feel more immersed in the story.
Overall, while the story has some strong moments, it could benefit from more character development and a clearer resolution to the conversation between Mellie and Georgia.
One critique of this story draft is that it lacks a clear plot and direction. The story jumps from the two women having a smoke break and not knowing each other well, to a conversation about their pasts and their feelings about their current situations. While the dialogue between the characters is engaging, there's not much else happening in terms of plot or conflict.
Another inconsistency is the sudden shift in Georgia's demeanor towards Mellie - after grabbing Mellie's wrist to look at her lighter, Georgia suddenly becomes hostile and rude towards her. This behavior is surprising given that they had been peacefully smoking together and Mellie had made a friendly gesture in lighting Georgia's cigarette. It's not clear what triggered Georgia's change in behavior, and it feels like a contradiction to the initial atmosphere of the scene.
Furthermore, some parts of the dialogue between Mellie and Georgia feel unnatural or forced. For example, when Georgia says she doesn't know who Holden Caulfield is, it doesn't feel like a believable response - especially considering the book's notoriety.
Finally, the ending of the story feels abrupt and unsatisfying. There's no resolution to the conversation between Mellie and Georgia or any indication of what will happen next. The shift back into work mode feels like a dismissal of the potential depth that the conversation could have explored.
"Are you trying to start a fight or something?" Georgia snapped.
Mellie raised her hands defensively. "No, no, sorry. It's just that you seem like the kind of person who wouldn't be into reading."
Georgia scoffed. "Yeah, well, I work long hours and don't have much free time. Reading isn't exactly a priority for me."
Mellie nodded, not wanting to push the issue any further.
One inconsistency in the story is the sudden shift of Georgia's behavior towards Mellie. At the beginning of the story, Georgia was described as rude and unpleasant to work with. However, towards the end of the story, Georgia suddenly becomes more friendly and opens up about her past. This sudden shift in personality is not explained, and it seems out of character for Georgia to suddenly become more friendly without any reason.
Another inconsistency is in Mellie's characterization. Mellie seems to have a strong desire to get to know Georgia better, but she never really makes an effort to do so. Mellie is described as being unsure of how to approach Georgia, but later in the story, she suddenly becomes more confrontational and argumentative. This shift in behavior is not explained, and it doesn't seem to fit with Mellie's character as it was earlier described.
Furthermore, the dialogue between Mellie and Georgia seems forced and unrealistic at times. For example, the conversation about Holden Caulfield and Catcher in the Rye feels out of place and doesn't seem to contribute to the story in any meaningful way. Additionally, the conversation about how dreams die and cynicism thrives also seems cliched and unoriginal, adding nothing meaningful to the story. These dialogues could be improved to make them more natural and less forced.
Lastly, the story lacks a clear resolution or direction. The story seems to end abruptly without any real resolution or conclusion. It's unclear what the point of the story was or what the characters are supposed to take away from their conversation. A clearer resolution or takeaway would make the story more engaging and satisfying for the reader.