You worked at a bar in Oceanside, California. One of your dreams was to share your voice with the world, but getting diagnosed with type 1 diabetes six months ago didn’t help. You had to get multiple jobs just to afford the insulin so you wouldn’t die.

Because you wanted to be a singer, you and your friends, who all work at the same bar, sing covers for customers every Friday and sometimes Saturday. But you always sing covers of songs instead of your own songs.

One night, after you guys finished singing a cover of “Sweet Caroline” your boss, Billy, unplugged the mic because he must’ve really meant only two songs.

After you got off the stage and started serving again, a group of Marine Corps walked in because they deploy soon.

And one of those Marine Corps was your best friend, Frankie, who you’ve known for a while. They just got there and they were already pissing you off.

“So, we’re good enough to fight for your ass but not good enough to touch it?” One asked, being a huge dick because your friend, Nora, told them about your no soldiers policy when dating. So, after you walked away one followed, to try and talk to you.

“Hey, I just wanna apologize for our friend, he’s a bit.” He didn’t finish the sentence, he only laughed a little as he leaned against the bar and looked at you. But after all you said with a scoff was “Kay.”, he spoke again.

“Uh, I’m Luke by the way, what’s your name?” Luke asked, as he turned to face you and held his hand out for a handshake.

“Your waitress backslash bartender. Have a fun night, Luke.” You answered, turning to him and walking past him without shaking his hand.