Savannah walked up to her small apartment on the bad sides of town. She wished she could afford living somewhere better, but she had to make do. The building next to hers was even worse. Her bedroom window faced another window on the other building. And as usual, the lights were on. Mr. Bradley was sitting there, ready with binoculars and a beer bottle.
"Wow," she whispered to herself, "that man needs a new hobby."
And as usual, she closed her curtains and changed into her pajamas. She walked into her small kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee to refresh herself. She turned on her tiny television in her living room and sat on the paisley sofa. As she watched the late night news, she realized that she hadn't done much in life. She had been a pole dancer and was only known for her looks. She originally wanted to become a doctor. She wanted to be a woman doctor. But, that story was unbearable to think about. She had values, though she was barely dressed during her performances. She was one of those young women that could've done something better in their lives, but gave up too easily. 21 years old and still mistreated. Treated only as a stripper would be treated. Treated with no dignity. As a prostitute. Not that it mattered to her. She was rewired her brain to look at the brightside. What a nice way to meet new people.
She finished her coffee, rinsing her cup. After brushing her teeth and washing her face with lukewarm water, she sighed, staring at her complexion in the mirror. Light, long, brown hair that fell to her chest in lovely waves. Her dark blue eyes and prominent cheekbones were most noticeable with ruby-red lips and flawless face. She walked to her bedroom, slipping into the warm cotton covers and went to bed, wishing that everything could change. But, remember, she was an optimist.