That's Life

Two

     Talking to yourself is weird. And yet, when yourself is all you have left to talk to, how strange can it be?
     Elle pondered this question as she walked to her work at a coffee shop. The road was long and bustling with car traffic, yet not a single person walked beside her. Elle hated walking to work. She was always hot and sweaty by the time she arrived, and always late. Her employer understood why she was late and let it slide, but Elle couldn't help griping to herself that she would be there on time if her unemployed sister didn't insist on having a car.
     Elle would sometimes ask her friends for rides, but they were always given begrudgingly. She would rather walk than sit in a car with someone who didn't want her there, thank you very much.
     At work, everybody loved her. She was nobody's favorite, but the all loved being around her. A shift with Elle would be a good shift. Not an amazing shift, but a good one. And maybe that was the problem with Elle.
     Elle was always well liked with everyone. No one disliked her. But, she was never anybody's favorite. Your first choice to ask someone to hang out was never her, though she made a good back up.
     Being a back up sucked.