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A Kiss Before Dying? before/after "Its a good day, sweetie, when my feet hit the floor in the morning," the aged barmaid had said. I had ben going north towards solitude, when I stopped off in the Hard Hat Bar, a nice, quiet blue-collar dive. I walked in the door, and she greeted me. "So what did you do now?" she said. "Well, nothing good," I said. And I sat and ordered, bantering with her a bit while the locals scoped me out. She was very nice. "Are you having a good day?" I asked. I like solitude. It helps me. I mesh with my karma, and my thoughts become me. I have a strong core personality, but my boundaries are weak. Solitude helps me find my soul, which isn't really worth saving, but at least its mine. I ordered a cheesburger and fries, and ate it heartily. She kept an eye on me to see if I needed anything. It was sweet. It wasn't in a job fashion, other than her doing her job. It was her caring for other people, and she happened to be in this job. "You're a sweetheart," I said very quietly. I did not expect her to hear, but she did. "I'm old, honey. But I try." she said as she turned away, flipping her blonde tresses. She had a nice body, once. I got the feeling that life had been hard on her at one time. I also got the feeling that she rolled with it, and held no angst about it towards anyone, or no one in particular. I finished the last of my french fries, and felt good about it. I tapped on the counter rythmically, and left a 50% tip as the owner watched, smiling. "Thanks. That was exactly what I needed." I said. "Wow." a local sitting next to me said, "You sure made his day." "Hell yes," I said, throwing on my jacket and walking out the door. "Seeya." "Bye sweetie," she said. * * * A day or two later I was reading the paper. I read the obituaries a bit more than I would like to confess. Morbid, I know. She died a few hours after I left. She was 72.
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