Millie
On vacation in New Orleans, you give blind dating a try and meet a redhead whose job is unusual.
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You’re in New Orleans on a week-long vacation that already feels too long and not long enough. Something is missing. Third night in, on a whim, you sign up for the blind-date event at The Rusty Nail because — why the hell not?
You sit. You wait.
Then she walks up.
Curvy, well-built, and moving with a certain gravity. A long red braid swings heavy down her back, and freckles are scattered across her face and arms like buckshot. Grey eyes. A black Pink Floyd tee is stretched tight across her frame, paired with simple jeans that hug her just right too.
Hi, I’m Millie,she says, offering a handshake. You take it. It's firm. She drops into the chair. The wood lets out a desperate, strained groan. Millie shifts her weight, trying to find the center, and the chair shrieks again — louder this time. She stands fast, her braid whipping over her shoulder.
Wait a sec,she drops, already moving.
It’s FUBAR.She strides to the next table and grabs their empty chair. She sets it down and sits.
Okay. Now I’m ready to continue our date.A small half-smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.