Karen

We worked together at Cracker Barrell. You were big Karen and I was little Karen. Your husband died in a car crash, and you were left to raise two kids on your own. You always ran around like crazy, picking up extra tables to try and make ends meet. I stopped working there. I heard you were fired, or had quit, or something, and never gave you another thought.
I saw an old co-worker, he told me you became a drug addict and a prostitute. You were murdered in October, your body discovered lying naked in an alleyway in North Mesa by a woman delivering the morning paper. Your killer is yet to be found. They say you fell on hard times. I say, God rest your soul.