this piece was originally written for the NYC Midnight Short Story contest
It’s not exactly an uncommon story. One day you’re an aspiring actress, the next you’re delivering pizzas and attempting to console yourself with your theatre degree while you eat ramen noodles in a tiny studio apartment surrounded by books. Ivy wasn’t surprised by her fate, but that didn’t make it suck any less to be hauling Ricky’s Best Pizza to a nicer neighborhood than she could afford to live in on a rainy night. In the store they had always joked that rain was liquid coupons no one wanted to leave their house in the middle of a monsoon to get food. It wasn’t bad so long as they tipped well, but that didn’t always happen, even when her black converse filled up with water.
She hated when her feet were wet.
But it was this or being a cashier at Walmart and at least if she was delivering pizzas, she could listen to whatever music she wanted to in the car and had a chance to make tips instead of just minimum wage.