What’s on your mind, Millie?
I can’t quell this curiosity about her—a woman who seemed off-putting at the mention of not dating military guys, but then turns around and adopts a senior dog. A Stanford grad who should be on the fast-track to CEO but works in some hole-in-the-wall diner.
She’s like a walking, talking contradiction.
And she’s cute. Really cute… in that girl I’d want to take home to meet my parents kind of way, if my parents weren’t likely in jail again by now.
Besides, that look on Millie’s face as she sits in the diner reminds me of those dogs in that ASPCA commercial—the one with that depressing song that makes you want to pull out your credit card so they can save some more animals.
She looks… helpless.
Just as I’m about to pass the window, she stands, then walks to the back of the diner before she sees me.
Everything in me wants to help, when she probably just wants me to mind my own business.
But helplessness is something that I need to fix instinctively.
Maybe because I had my own share of helplessness when I was a kid, and wish someone had tried to fix it for me.