If one more pervert pinched, grabbed, or swatted her ass she was going to lose it.<br/><br/>Kat caught her reflection in the mirror behind the sorry excuse for a bar, and stopped.  Blonde hair was attempting to flee the simple band it was in, haphazard and in all directions.  Though the pony tail was homely, it wasn't exactly how she would wear her hair to go out and "catch" her future husband who would take care of her.  She sighed.  At least she had inheritted her mother's nice cheekbones and browline.  She couldn't complain about that.<br/><br/>The final light switch went down and she stood in the semi-dark, a splash of moonlight caught on the beer and coffee-stained floorboards.  Zebediah's -- the owner's name wasn't named Zebediah, and she thought the name ridiculous, but it gave her income and the tips were always good.  She dreamed of a way out of this swampy, backwater town.<br/><br/>Some day.<br/><br/>She watched her last waitress "friend" leave with a flippant wave of her hand out the door, and made her way out into the parking lot.  Kat lived close enough to walk home, and didn't bother driving.  It hurt the environment anyway, right?  She sucked in a breath of air, closed her eyes, and then started off toward the road home.<br/><br/>When she was three steps away, the hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she stopped, half turned.<br/><br/>"Silly girl," she coaxed herself, and continued walking....