Tara set out the closed sign on her bed and breakfast, the Ursaline Guest House. She didn't stay late because she enjoyed the party life as much as the next person. She was thin, dressed in fashionably tattered jeans and a white tee shirt that read, "I got Bourbon faced on Shit Street.". She pushed her unremarkable copper hair behind her ear. Putting the keys for the late tentants into envelopes , Tara Flanagan grabbed her computer bag to head for the corner convenience store where Cedric would tend to the details.<br/><br/>Out on the street, revealers called out to each other as they wandered in and out of the taverns where Cajun music blended with blues, jazz and rock and roll. Tara enjoyed this town. It was alive, breathing. Maybe it was the presences of the centuries old ghosts that inhabited the Big Easy or maybe it was just the fog that rolled in from the Mississippi. Tara could have stayed at the guest house but she didn't want to sleep with ghosts. The guests found it quaint, but she had an upstairs flat that had a balcony that overlooked Toulouse. Street.<br/><br/>She had originally come to NOLA to attend school but soon bored with studies. Life beckoned and it wasn't inside the dusty halls of the university. She enjoyed walks along the Mississippi and she enjoyed the nights of tossing beads to the tourists. She enjoyed being an inn keeper. Maybe some day she would own one. That brought a chuckle.<br/><br/>"Probably not, " she said outloud, as she nodded to a group of girls standing around a hot dog stand. Later she would go to the Korner bar and enjoy the music. They would close in the wee hours of the morning and if she was lucky, she would make a 'friend' or two.