Sitting in a Hamburger

Downtown Kansas City: A woman with unruly black hair sits in a store that looks like a hamburger. She sits behind the fry counter, the fry counter without fries in a store that's painted like a hamburger, yet doesn't sell hamburgers. She sells clothes. Bold clothes. Clothes that make statements and start conversations. Clothes that blind its customers with colorful happiness. Clothes sold in a store the color of sheer delight.

She smiles as her piled-curls nod on her head, matching her hamburger painted surroundings. Black and white striped spandex and crazy parachuting top that labels her as nothing less than a character. The stuff songs are made of. She is the muse of her own hamburger castle. Her little store with its yarn clothing racks and brilliant yellows, greens, and oranges.

The store is shaped less than a square, unsettlingly small, yet its brilliance cannot be contained.

The sun shines brightly on hamburger styled clothing stores.