[Disclaimer: This story is created with the help HeartByte, a free AI assisted writing tool. All the plots are my original, but the tool helped with words, dialogs, etc to be able to publish faster. Nevertheless, I think it's a fun story that combined a lot of my personal life experience. I hope you enjoy it!]
Beneath the sultry sun of Southern Florida, Shira navigated the broken sidewalks of her neighborhood, where weeds dared to peek through the cracks, defiant in their survival. Houses with peeling paint and shabby roofs lined the streets, their windows like the tired eyes of the elderly, witnessing the relentless march of time without the strength to protest. The air carried the salty tang of the sea mingled with the less pleasant hints of refuse not timely collected. Children played with makeshift toys in the yards. It was a community worn down by hardship. She walked slowly, the sneakers on her feet tattered.
She just met Gina, her BFF at McDonalds. These two were so broke they had to share a sundae.
Gina, a girl with wild curls and tighter-than-rubber tank top, slid the Sundae across the table towards Shira. "Splitting a Sundae at McDonald's, huh? Talk about living the high life," she joked.
Shira laughed and then sighed: "Hey, at least we have a Sundae to split. Remember last week? We were down to sharing a packet of ketchup."
Gina nodded and smirked, "And look at us now, moving up in the world."
She scooped up some of the Chocolate Sundae, her gaze drifting beyond the confines of the fast-food restaurant. "Hey...Do you ever think about getting out of here, Shira? Like,
really making something of yourself?"
"Every day." said Shira. "That's why I started posting on Instagram. It's silly, but I thought maybe, just maybe, I could make something happen."
"Ahhh ok. Maybe that's a good idea. I'm not sure... but you should try." Gina's mind seemed to start wondering. She then nudged Shira, "Hey, check out that cutie? Totally hot."
Their moment of shared dreams was interrupted by the screech of the McDonald's doors. A handsome young guy entered, who wore a olive green henley, buttons undone to reveal a silver chain necklace. He was carelessly attractive.
"Yeah...for sure he is hot." Shira didn't look up. Instead, she kept thinking about those Instagram photos.
When Shira got home, her father is drinking again. He just came home, his eyes hollow with defeat, after Burger King had turned him away. "Not even fit for flipping burgers," he muttered to no one in particular. Then he sipped the cheap vodka. His hair is oily and messy, and his shoes laid in front of the sofa, lazily.
Shira's mom is busy looking through the bill, her fingers trembling slightly as she tried to make sense of the numbers that danced before her eyes.
With each bill she set aside, a soft sigh escaped her lips – not loud enough to rouse her husband from his stupor, yet loud enough to reflect the quite desperation brewing within her.
Shira went to her room and started looking through her clothes one more time. She need to post something on Instagram today before 5pm.
"Go help your mom make lunch." Shira's father staggered up to the second floor, bottle clutched like a lifeline in his hand. The stench of cheap alcohol wafted from him, blending with the stale air of the house.
"Dad, I can't. I've got to post these three photos on Instagram."
His voice, slurred by cheap whiskey, sneered back, "And why's that? Gonna make you a star?"
"Well, yeah. Because I wanna be famous."
The response from her family was swift and sharp, a chorus of mockery that echoed through the cramped living room. Shira's father's laughter, bitter and biting, filled the air, while her mother, usually silent, let out a derisive snort. Even her younger brother, Micky, who never pays attention to anything, looked up from magazine and couldn't help but join in, his giggles adding to the cacophony of disbelief.
"Not gonna happen." Shira's father cheerfully came to conclusion. "Sweetheart, you should apply for Walmart, they pay pretty well."
Shira was annoyed, she shut the door and sat back to her bed.
She looked at her phone, she has been working on Instagram for three months and so far only got 15 likes in total. It wasn't just the lack of likes that weighed on her heart but the comments that occasionally spilled in, dripping with bitterness. "Trying too hard," said one. "Who would want to see this?" sneered another.
"What should I do." Shira felt a moment of lost, staring at the most recent like, which was 2 weeks ago.