@DemocracySpot it was a cold and rainy night when she walked into that roadside diner.
"You Ms. Betty?" I asked the back of a rain slicked coat.
"I am," she replied while shaking out her umbrella.
Her voice was breathless and low, the kind that was more comfortable in hushed whispers into her lover's ear. The voice felt out of place amongst the greasy sausage plates and mounds of hash browns.
@DemocracySpot "I need you to find out about my husband," she said. Her words had been measured and even, a testimony to the inner strength of the women who sat before me.
She looked to be in her early-thirties. A starlet destined to shine with eyes that spoke of pain and perhaps...longing. It was not hard to see how Ms. Betty could command a room with a look. That might have helped her out west in Hollywood or even out east to New York. Maybe there her slightly pouted lips and shadowy voice might have amount to something. But this was South Carolina. Here if you want to make something of yourself, it took more than a pretty face or a nice set of eyes. Turning heads was something only few could afford. I wondered to myself if Ms. Betty had the scratch.
@DemocracySpot I have a hard time being fine with my images on the phone too, they do change the colours or the black tone if you shoot in black and white and always looks to dark. Frustrating!
I understand that you like it, you can see the rain clearly under the streetlight 👌
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