Models Wanted
Models wanted said the sign. Becky was no fool, so even though the storefront looked completely abandoned, she had worked in more deserted-looking restaurants, and they didn't have any models wanted signs hanging on the front door, so she went inside to investigate.
She noticed the paint first. With the models wanted sign in her grasp, she wandered through the lobby towards the impeccably groomed receptionist, who was apparently surfing the net and balancing the books simultaneously. The whole office was painted in the most god-awful shade of bright yellow Becky had ever seen. She thought to herself that one could easily go blind, mad, or both if they ever had to spend any real amount of time here. She handed the models wanted sign to the receptionist, who had obviously spent too much time there already, as her greeting was a series of grunts and a couple of quick twitches of her head to one side.
As the strange woman crumpled the models wanted sign into a ball, Becky noticed a photo on the wall behind the computer screen. It was a simple shot, of a young woman sitting on the one chair that could be found in the waiting room here. Closer examination revealed that it was in fact the receptionist in younger years, looking quite pleasant and hopeful. All Becky could think was, why is their waiting room only equipped to accommodate one person? A voice inside her head quickly spoke - "Well now, sister, that could either be a good thing, or a bad thing. Did you come here to critique the interior decorating or were you responding to the models wanted sign?" The voice echoed momentarily in her skull. Confused for a moment, she looked up to see the receptionist staring accusingly at her, a look of disdain in her eye.
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