<div style="text-align: justify;">While the man waited for something at the bus stop, someone else was going on about her life as usual. Well, <span style="font-style: italic">as usual</span> was a bit of a stretch when it came to her life, though. Her life was all but usual, and it had been like this for a few years. It was getting worse now, but there wasn't much she could do about it. <br/><br/>And Los Angeles was not the most comfortable environment for that girl, either. She felt out of place, and like the city was too fast, too crowded, <span style="font-style: italic">too much</span> for her. She craved for a quieter life, but that just was not an option right now. So, she kept on living there and making her way in life in that confusing city.<br/><br/>On the outside, she didn't really look or dress too different from what was to be expected. Her tiny frame, blond hair and big blue eyes might make her look younger than her twenty-one, but it wasn't too bad. Some patrons in the club she worked for joked that she looked like a doll. Marissa didn't mind. It took a lot for Marissa, or Mari, as she preferred to be called, to get upset. It was probably why she was so successful as a hostess. Welcoming people, finding them a place to sit or a spot on the dance floor, suggesting a drink, everything came naturally for her. Even disgruntled patrons had an easier time calming down when she took them aside for a conversation, and it was rare that security had to get involved. Yes, she was a valuable asset, even with her tendency to sometimes disappear and be unable to account for those missing hours or days.<br/><br/>Right now, though, Marissa was herself and leaving work to go home. The building she had left had the words "Wonderland Club" in neon letters right above the doors, and was a pretty well known venue at the neighborhood. She was also pretty well known, at least by sight, since she spent the first couple hours of every night outside greeting people as they came in. She wasn't wearing work clothes, though. They were inside a bag with the club's name printed on it, and she was wearing light wash jeans and a pink t-shirt. Her hair was tied on a neat pony tail, and she looked like any other girl. After saying good-bye to someone who was still inside, the girl crossed the few feet between the club and the bus stop and dropped on the bench with a sigh. It had been a long night.<br/><br/>Out of simple politeness, she turned to look at the young man who was also there and nodded to him, yawning afterwards.</div>