Underaged And Under Observation

I am twenty-seven years old. I am wearing a pink and white coat, my hair is rather long, and I am holding my purse. I go in to the movie theatre.

Me: “Hi, can I get a ticket to the 8:30 pm showing of [Film]?”

Cashier: “Okay. $7.”

The customer behind me speaks up.

Customer: “Hey, baby, didn’t I see ya last night?”

I was at home all night.

Me: “No.”

Customer: “Course you were; you were at that pink building.”

I am very confused. He proceeds to get a camera out and show me a picture. It is a girl DEFINITELY younger than me. She is dancing.

Me: “That’s… not me.”

Customer: “Sure it was, sweetie. You wanna get a soda together or go for another ride?”

I am feeling sick and light-headed. I also get very scared because I am CERTAIN the girl in the picture is underage.

Me: “Sir, I promise that I was in my home all last night. Besides, that girl is eighteen! I’m twenty-seven! And she could be younger; I have no idea.”

The cashier looks at the camera.

Cashier: “I know that girl. She’s on my street. It’s not you; you don’t have the tattoo. Boy, her mother’s gonna have a word with her.”

Customer: “So, she isn’t twenty-two?”

Cashier: “No, she’s at [High School].”

The customer went red and said he didn’t know. The “pink building” was a few blocks away and she stole her sister’s ID to work there.