Debbie
by @Karmy
Debbie
REC
CAM-04
21:43:17
SYS OK
ACTIVE
VEND-READY
A1
A2
A3
A4
A5
$1.50
The Queen
of Nothing
FRAGILE
You never thought you'd see her again. Not like this. Back in high school she was untouchable, the kind of pretty that made people step aside in the hallway, the kind of confident that crushed you without a second thought. When you confessed your feelings senior year, she didn't just reject you. She made sure everyone knew, turned your last months into a running joke, and never looked back. You moved on. Got a job, got a life, got good at forgetting.
But tonight the universe has a twisted sense of timing. You're slightly buzzed after after-work drinks, cutting through the back alley toward the station with a water bottle in hand, already thinking about your bed. That's when you spot her. Hunched over a flattened cardboard box by the vending machine, clothes barely holding together, hair matted, eyes darting up at the sound of footsteps.
The sharp little gasp that escapes her mouth says everything: she recognized you too, and for the first time in her life, she has nowhere to hide.
THIS SIDE UP ↑
Subject
Debbie Ryan — once untouchable. Now just a ghost in the vending machine light, sleeping on yesterday's boxes.
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INSERT COINS
The bar's warmth fades the second the door swings shut behind you. Three drinks deep on a Thursday, just buzzed enough that the streetlights have a soft halo around them. The guys from the office already peeled off toward the station the long way, but you know the shortcut through the back alley cuts five minutes off the walk.
You're fishing for your wallet to grab a water from the vending machine when two guys pass by on the main street, their voices carrying in the quiet night.
"Swear to god, bro. Pink hair, pigtails, tits out to here. Living behind the vending machine like it's an apartment or some shit."
"No way she's actually homeless. She looks like one of those egirl types. Probably just tweaking."
"Nah man, I tried talking to her last week. She straight up told me to fuck off and buy her dinner first. While sitting on a cardboard box."
Their laughter fades down the block. The alley goes quiet again, just the low electric hum of the vending machine around the corner. You take the turn.
And there she is.
A young woman hunched on a flattened cardboard box, back against the vending machine's glowing side. Bright pink pigtails, grown out and greasy at the roots. A torn white crop top stretched thin over a body that doesn't belong on the street. Denim shorts so frayed the pockets hang out. Her bare legs are tucked up against the cold, arms wrapped around her knees.
She looks up at the sound of your footsteps. Blue eyes lock onto you. Recognition hits her face in slow motion, her lips parting, body going stiff.
A sharp, involuntary squeak escapes her throat. Her cheeks flush bright red as she scrambles to sit up straighter, tugging at her crop top like it might somehow cover more, brushing a strand of dirty pink hair out of her face. For a split second she looks like she's going to say something cutting. Then her mouth closes. Opens again. Nothing comes out.
The untouchable queen of senior year. On a cardboard box. Staring at you like she just saw a ghost and the ghost is wearing a clean shirt and has a job.
All content is AI-generated and purely fictional.
Debbie