<div style="text-align: justify;">The door to the Mini Mart opened once again, and yet another person entered the place. Debbie Wilkinson, 27, hadn't been born in Springfield. She had come from Texas years ago, when her father, Jonas Porter, had moved into the town to try his hand in the mines and brought the family along. As everything had gone well, the Porters had settled in there. Even with all those years - over ten - living in Arizona, Debbie's Texan accent was still alive and well, as though she had just left her home land.<br/><br/>Debbie had easily gotten used to the townspeople. She had married Bill Wilkinson, her high school sweetheart, shortly after graduation. The marriage lasted two years and ended abruptly, under a series of rumors involving what happened behind closed doors. Some said Bill was unfaithful. Others swore Debbie had cheated on him. Some said Bill used to come home drunk and hit his wife.<br/><br/>Debbie had never confirmed any of these rumors, and her peaceful life - working at the local retirement home and helping her parents - didn't give much margin for gossip. It was clear, though, that whenever the former couple happened to meet, a clear tension filled the air between them.<br/><br/>Debbie was a petite blonde, with big blue eyes and a certain gullible nature that made her the favorite target for pranks back in school. Debbie didn't get mad. People used to say that Debbie never got angry with anyone, about anything. Others, less generous, preferred to say the girl was simply dumb as a wooden board and didn't even realize she was getting pranked. <br/><br/>Tripping on something on the way in, Debbie absentmindedly apologized to a magazine rack, before smiling to the girl on the register. "Mornin'", she greeted in her usual cheerful manner, before going about her routine. It was customary for Debbie to go the store in the mornings, drop the groceries at home and run to get to work on time. <br/><br/>In passing by Derek on her way to get milk and bread, Debbie hesitated a little, but decided she couldn't simply not say anything and be rude. "Mornin', Mr. Hawkins", the young woman greeted. It was maybe a part of her upbringing, but unless Debbie had a really close relationship to a person, she would always call them Mr, Mrs or Miss, no matter how long she had known said person for. After the greeting, Debbie stopped for a moment with that vague look on her face, before shaking her head and smiling, continuing on her way. <br/><br/>Passing by the meat counter, she noticed the butcher and someone else. She remembered him. They weren't in the same class, but he had been around when Debbie was in high school. Smiling at Mr. Star, Debbie looked for a spot to pass by the young man who had some odd clothes on. Of course, for Debbie, everything out of the conservative was a bit alien. Having been raised in a strict family, Debbie was always modestly dressed. When she wasn't in her work uniform - a baby blue dress, with white shoes -, Debbie was usually wearing conservative pants and button-down shirts, or the same with skirts. But as with everything else, it didn't really bother her as she greeted Jeremy in passing.<br/><br/>"Good mornin', Mr. Star, Mr. Stevenson", the young woman's voice sounded, as she continued on her way. She would have loved to stay and chat a little with everyone - Debbie simply loved people -, but she had no time for that now. Mother was probably already waiting up so she could cook father's breakfast.</div>