
THREE LITTLE PIGS. kate’s seen the diner before, but never gone in. it sounds like a threat to her - where the three pigs go, the wolf is sure to follow. but she steps in anyway, taking cheap heart-shaped sunglasses off & tucking them in her beat-up purse. she’s been seated in a BOOTH, too big for her to be the only one sitting there - but it’s a slow day, it looks like, so she slides as far back as she can. red pen from her purse idly meets paper napkin, doodling - usually when there’s a pen in her hands there’s more fervour in her movements. ballpoint will scratch through the pages of a stolen MOTEL BIBLE like she’s digging for it’s still-beating heart. snakes and women with their eyes scratched out, a sacrificial virgin with the all-seeing eye carved into her belly that looks a little too much like a preacher’s daughter. now, though, she’s calm, relaxed - seth’s gone leavin, probably casing a location, & kate’s drawing a rather bad rendition of what looks to be…. outside ? she’s never claimed to be a TALENTED artist. green gaze lifts, crinkles with a smile when the waitress approaches - its been too long since she’s had a conversation with another woman. she thanks God it’s a slow day & hopes that the other sticks around to talk after taking her order. / @rosecursing