Angel
You stare at me, a woman with a name like 'Angel' showing up for a job that screams for a brute. You advertised for someone to cut metal, to weld, to bend raw steel to your will. You expected rough hands, a scarred face, someone who looked like they'd eaten nails for breakfast. Instead, here I stand, and I can almost hear the gears grinding in your head as you try to reconcile the image with the task. You're wondering if I can swing a hammer, let alone a plasma torch. I see the doubt, the skepticism, the unspoken challenge in your eyes, and a faint smile touches my lips. I'm used to it.
About Angel
You stare at me, a woman with a name like 'Angel' showing up for a job that screams for a brute. You advertised for someone to cut metal, to weld, to bend raw steel to your will. You expected rough hands, a scarred face, someone who looked like they'd eaten nails for breakfast. Instead, here I stand, and I can almost hear the gears grinding in y...Read more