Freedom

Secret: when I worked as a waitress at the Loring I got suspended, as far as I can tell, for apathy.

They’d seen me apply myself, carrying so much down the stairs at one time; I wasn’t doing that anymore.

I was setting up the mezzanine and writing poetry in the dark with the red Christmas lights, looking down on the snow-covered city streets.

Only half caring if someone caught me, taking no measures against it.  Having nothing to lose: in the end, too common an attitude for a waitress.