I was in Target on Sunday when a young woman walked past me. She was wearing a nano-dress and at least 4” spike heels. She wasn’t quite letting it all hang out, just most of it. I continued to the cat food aisle, trying to decide which would be worse: if my daughter dressed like that or if my son brought home a girl who dressed like that. When I got in the checkout line, the same girl and her friend were at the next line over. Apparently, someone had made a comment about her attire (or lack thereof), because she was complaining to her friend (she sounded like Paris Hilton and Richard Pryor were her parents) that she knew her skirt was short but that didn’t mean she wasn’t conservative, and people shouldn’t judge her by her clothes. As badly as I wanted to say to her, “Fair or not, people do make assumptions about you based on your appearance. If you don’t want people to think you’re a streetwalker, don’t dress like one,” I just stood in my queue and snickered. As I got in the car, I realized that she is the perfect model for a character in a story idea I have. This particular character is something of a lost soul. She is in the border lands, not yet irredeemable, but dangerously close to the abyss of self destruction. She gets one chance to reclaim her true self, or die. For my character, I think I’ll keep the trashy clothes, maybe add some piercings, lose (or at least tone down) the potty mouth, definitely keep the “not getting-it-ness,” perhaps black hair with blonde roots instead of the other way around. Fictional characters are everywhere. Sometimes, you just have to go shopping.