Burn

Chapter one: Crocodilian

The girl worked with impressive speed as she went from one end of the counter to the other. She kept a permanent smile plastered on her lips, a strand of loose hair brushing the corner of her mouth. The black apron with her name on it was tightly knotted at the back of her neck, coiling her muscles and she often pressed her palm to the strain while she worked. The sun streaming in from the wall-sized window was illuminating the sweat collected on her forehead and she wished for a breeze of fresh air. Her lungs felt congested with the smell of beer, hamburger meat, and fries. Her palms were sticky from cleaning chemicals and all the beer she spilled while on the rush.

"Refill please!"

The girl pushed the loose strand of dark hair behind her ear and sighed, stretching her mouth into an even bigger smile. She trotted to the other end, a pint of beer in her right hand and a wash rag in the other. She rapidly refilled the mugs and collected her tip, giving the men a huge smile. Once her back was turned, she dropped the fake act and quickly counted her tip. Then she was back to serving.

When the evening rolled in and it had been the longest four hours she had lived, she was more than happy to see the traffic in the restaurant slow. There were only two men at the bar, sitting on opposite ends, and three occupied tables on the floor. Since she was a barmaid, the tables were not her duty, but rather the other servants whom she didn't bother to befriend as much.

"Pretty girl like you shouldn't be working in a place like this." She was used to the usual flirt and thus knew how to reply. Yet when she turned and spotted her regular Conrad sitting with an empty mug, she couldn't help the satisfied smirk on her lips.

"Fella done me wrong so I had no choice but to work for my money," she cooed as she filled Conrad's mug with his favorite. He was a middle-aged man who had lost his job a couple years back and was no living on wellfare. He was of a certain unnoticeable weight with a head full of thick, curly white hair and eyes the color of an icy ocean. He had meaty hands that had seen better days and if he laughed too hard he would go into a coughing fit that would end up in his beer being switched to water. But he was kind and she could enjoy meaningless conversations with him.

"Don't let no fella ruin your life, little Addie," he said as he accepted his mug. He took a huge gulp and sighed when the liquor hit his stomach.

"What brings you hear on a Thursday night?" Addie asked, wiping the bar with her filthy rug. Honestly, there was no point in cleaning the bar when all she had was a rug as dirty as her attic.

"Ah," he grunted, another swing of his beer sending a stream of fluid down the side of his mouth. "Nothing on T.V and the neighbors are being loud again."

Addie smiled and place a small pot of cashews in front of him. "The usual that brings you around here on Fridays," she giggled.

"How's school?"

She gave a sly shrug. Conrad was prone to little memory loss as he usually drank so much that he didn't remember what they had talked about. "I told you this already," she said slowly, "but I don't go to school anymore, Conrad."

He frowned deeply, looked at the ceiling like he usually does when he can't remember anything, and took another swing of his beer. "Is it because of that fella that done you wrong?"

Addie gave a small laugh, the sound like wind on a storm. "I wish, Conrad, I wish." She leaned against the soda machine and crossed her arms over her chest. "I had a car accident last year, remember?" she asked.

"Oh, yes."

"I was in a comma for a week and lost a bit of time in my memory," she continued. She had to speak to him like a child. Conrad seemed to illuminate all of a sudden and pointed at her.