As was the case every day from Monday to Thursday, Sin woke to the obnoxious buzzing of her cell phone alarm. She blearily reached over and tried to grab it. Instead, she clumsily smacked it to the floor, and as she cursed and reached down to it, her head connected with the night table. Yep. It would be one of those days.

Grumbling to herself, she managed to get out of bed without injuring herself further. She went about her morning routine with sickening regularity, finally slipping into the horribly-colored waitress outfit and grabbing her keys. She headed down the hallway of her dorm, waving ‘hi’ to her neighbor through the open door, and made her way down the stairwell, through the lobby, and out the front door. As she walked across campus, she noted the churning, bruised clouds on the horizon. A cool breeze lifted her hair out behind her and flipped the tail of her long, Autumn jacket. The sight of the clouds made her feel a bit better. A good storm had always calmed her nerves, as if Mother Nature were taking her fury out on the world just for her. Once in her car, a small, red 1994 Pontiac Grand Am GT, she made her way out of the parking garage and towards the nearby restaurant.

Work went well--which usually meant all of her customers were at least polite and gave somewhat decent tips. That is, until three men entered and shot that to hell. They were regulars, and Sin recognized them immediately. Middle-aged, hairy, and filthy, they always tried their hardest to terrorize whatever poor waitress got landed with them… one way or another. And, of course, they sat in Sin’s section.

Sin raised her eyes to the Heavens and muttered, “Did I do something to piss you off?”

“What was that, dear?”

Sin looked down at the little old lady who’s order she had been taking and smiled apologetically.

“I’m sorry, I was just thinking out loud. I’ll be right back with your appetizer,” she assured her and, quite reluctantly, turned and walked to the newly-occupied table. She sighed and frowned at them, all notions of politeness forgotten. She still remembered the last time she’d had them… quite vividly.

“What do you want?”

The men looked up at her, their beady eyes raking appreciatively up her body before coming to rest on her face. They guffawed, clearly amused by her abruptness. One of them winked openly at the other two before looking back at her.

“What’s the special today?”

Sin stared back evenly. “You know today’s special. What do you want?”

The men chuckled gruffly, their grins revealing their yellowed teeth behind their chapped lips. The man she’d addressed leaned forward slightly, his eyes twinkling deviously.

“That’s no way to treat a payin’ customer. You don’t want me to git the manager out here, do ya?”

Sin’s expression didn’t change. “Tell me what you want, or go somewhere else.”

The men laughed uproariously, until the third finally looked up and, without looking at the menus, said, “We’ll have the usual, sweetheart.”

Without a word, Sin turned and went to the kitchens. She called the order to the cooks, adding at the end of it, “--and feel free to spit on all of it.” She conveniently forgot to bring out the men’s drinks, serving only the little old lady and her husband as genuinely as she could. When the food was ready, she brought it all out, balanced on a large, round tray. She held the tray securely with one hand, using the other to grab the first plate. As she reached for it, however, she became conscious that someone’s hand was sneaking its way under her skirt. She closed her eyes and sighed.

‘I’m going to regret this.’

With an innocent “oops” and an only slightly interested expression of staged horror, she let the entire round tray flip out of her hands, pouring its bowls and plates of still-steaming contents all over the offender, splashing the other two, as well. The three men jumped up, cursing, as Sin turned and went back to the kitchens, a smirk playing across her lips.