Gabbie sat on the edge of the stage, barefoot, her rhinestone heels tucked under a rickety chair. She was still in her costume—a silver fringe dress that shimmered sadly in the dirty light. The last customer had shuffled out an hour ago, leaving behind the ghost of spilled whiskey and cheap perfume.
"Like a beginning," Lena whispered. And then she kissed her. gabbie carter, lena paul
It wasn't a question. Lena's expression softened, just a flicker. "I saw you, Gabbie. Not the fantasy. The girl who used to cry in the dressing room after her mom called. The one who gave her last twenty to the new girl who got robbed." She slid onto the stage next to her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. "You were always the realest thing in this fake place." Gabbie sat on the edge of the stage,
"So are you," Gabbie replied, not looking up. She traced a crack in the floor with her toe. "What are you going to do now? Count the cockroaches?" "Like a beginning," Lena whispered
Gabbie’s throat tightened. "What happens to us now? We're not... we're not just coworkers anymore. We're not anything."
Gabbie’s breath hitched. "Like what?"