She is the kind of person who emulates others. A skill learned in childhood for survival in a small provincial town that her spirit wasn't born for. A latch-key kid from the age of seven because her parents thought the television set was good enough and cheaper than a babysitter. Coming home every day after school to an empty house, assembling a cheese sandwich with mayo and wonder bread and turning on that magnificent miracle screen was her favorite part of the day. Carried away by the stories and glamour portrayed and distanced from the town yokels she was otherwise caged in with on the outside.
Before the age of sixteen she practiced driving with the boy, two years older who lived across the street. In exchange she shared kisses and a little fondling completely under the radar of anyone else's query. Her parents were only a little surprised when a week after her 16th birthday she crossed the living room with two suitcases in hand. Her hair perfectly coiffed and bright red lipstick applied flawlessly, she announced her departure for Hollywood. They watched her drive off in the beat-up Ford Fairlane purchased with her saved up babysitting money. The car farted and hissed as it glugged down the road. With just slightly raised eyebrows they went back to their frozen tray dinners on metal table stands and sank back into the shabby couch.
She went on to live in glorious madness with vultures and thieves at her door while remaining egregiously shrewd.
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