The feet belonged to an aspiring, yet starving, artist named Claire. Claire was always known to be the artistic type. Even in school where trend-setti...g and fashion-followers became the “norm” Claire always seemed to show she was an individual. Usually dressed in some sort of black shirt, stained by the countless efforts of her works, Claire remained the type of person that everyone knew was going in a different direction than everyone else. Now, many years after the drudgery of high-school,. In almost no time, a waitress came over with a tray with two small glasses of orange juice as well as an envelope. "Mr. Jackson said that this is for you," the waitress said as she handed the envelope to Miss K, then placed the orange juice on the railing. "If you need Mr. Jackson's services anymore, here's his card." Thanks," Miss K said as she slipped the card into her jacket pocket, then watched the waitress walk away.As Miss K called for a hit on her hand, Tracy slid up next to her friend. More

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