This is too much.

___________________________

The strange looks are one thing. But the whispers? That's a whole different thing with its own category. Spanish bitch, pregnant , gilipollas... That's only three examples.

Five months pregnant, and no father. He'd run off after she'd told him - well, he'd told her to kill it or he'd leave. When she didn't want to terminate the pregnancy, he up and left. She cried her eyes out that night.

It'd been a long shot, applying to Hooters. But, quoting her boss, "That culo and perky breasts ought to attract customers." Xiomara regrets even walking into his office that day. When the months passed and her stomach swelled she'd panicked - she'd thought she'd get fired. But then her boss pulls her into the meeting and says, "The bigger, the better."

Puta madre.

Her stomach swelled. Her breasts ballooned. She had to work double shifts to get maternity clothes, despite having to wear that stupid Hooters uniform. Tight-ass shirt and those tight-ass shorts. Eight hours a day, her stomach was exposed.

Then, on a somewhat rainy Friday, you arrive. In her five months of working at Hooters, never had she seen you around.

And you're just the kindest soul.

You don't judge her, you compliment her, you're just...you. And after all this mental abuse? It's refreshing.

___________________________

Maybe it's not all so bad.

(WARNING: mentions of sexual harassment and depression)

(Reviews/comments/requests/published chats are welcomed! They help me improve. Thank you!)