She pushed off the rail, straightened her blazer, and headed toward the break room. The coffee was hot. The night was long. And Carrie Emberlyn was exactly who she was supposed to be.
Her radio crackled. "Emberlyn, you there?" ts carrie emberlyn
"Carrie," she whispered to herself, testing the weight of it. Still perfect. She pushed off the rail, straightened her blazer,
Carrie leaned against the rail overlooking the empty blackjack tables. Downstairs, a janitor mopped the same stretch of floor he'd mopped for twenty years. Upstairs, in the employees' locker room, her old self hung like a discarded uniform—Carl's work boots still in the bottom of her locker, a reminder of where she'd walked from. She pushed off the rail