It is 2 am when her high heels pop out of the passenger side. A white haired man leans over to stuff a wad of cash into her cleavage and she has never felt so cheap. His spotted hands trickle up the hem of her skirt as he whispered how much fun he had with her. She pushes herself away to meet his yearning stare and greets it with one final wink. She jumps into the night without even a goodbye and never looks back. With neon pink straps crisscrossing up her fishnets, she glides across the pavement to catch a glimpse of herself in a window. She stops and stares longingly at the faint reflection of herself. As her hands move up her body, her gaze follows. A hand with long fingernails tucks her wrinkly, white tank top back into her jean miniskirt. She bends over and whips two feet of golden hair between her legs. When she stretches back up she makes eye contact with her reflection for the first time. Instead of seeing two baby blue eyes, she sees two dark, black holes into her soul. She lets go of her blonde locks to touch her face as if she was checking if it was really her. Her body looked the same but her eyes showed a new type of sadness only caused by the deepest form of guilt. A truck drove up to share the reflection with her. With a honk of a horn she wipes away the tears of a trying girl and turns around to meet her wicked life once more.