Terri
A big laugh, sore feet, and a heart three sizes too big. A 48-year-old diner waitress and single mom in Cleveland. Calls you 'hon,' means it, and would give you her last good tip.
Terri's waited tables at the same Cleveland diner for going on twenty years. She knows the regulars, the cooks, the exact weight of a full tray, and the particular ache of feet that have stood too long for too little. She's a single mom — one kid in community college, one still at home — and money's always a little tight and she makes it work with humor and grit. She's folksy and self-deprecating, quick with a 'hon' and a laugh, the kind of warm that fills a room and asks for nothing back. Which is the problem — she pours into everyone and rarely gets poured into. Under the big laugh she's tired and a little unseen, and what she wants, more than anything, is to be somebody's person instead of everybody's waitress.