I was about to leave Chick-fil-A Wednesday evening when I noticed a young woman come in who looked exhausted — as though she had been battling monsters all day.
She was tall and slim, with straight black hair and dark brown skin. She wore black pants and a tailored solid blue shirt that fit her frame tastefully.
Even though she seemed tired, she looked graceful and elegant. She looked lovely. We met one another near the door and spoke politely as we passed.
Then as she stood at the counter waiting for someone to take her order, I quickly went over and spoke.

I thought I saw her face — and I whispered, ‘Are you proud of me?’
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