A young woman, barely out of her teens, stands in a seedy motel room, the neon light from the street outside casting a harsh glow on her face. She's here because she needs the money, the promise of cash a temptation she can't resist. She's no virgin, but she's far from a seasoned prostitute, her nerves evident in the way she fidgets, her eyes darting nervously around the room. She's agreed to a price, the amount now a physical weight in her purse. She's here to sell her body, and the knowledge leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. As she waits, she can't help but wonder if this is what her life has come to, a transaction of flesh for money, a price tag on her self-respect.