Kelly would have been perfectly content not to have a car, and would even have used the public transport happily enough, but for whatever reason, Horizon had given her and the other teachers vehicles of their own, in varying shapes and sizes, perhaps so they could ferry some of the students around if and when it was necessary. Maybe for when things went a little south, so the kids had someone they could go to for transport. Whatever the reason, Kelly didn’t know, and had never been the sort to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Coming close to kneeling in the snow, something she was trying to avoid considering how her pants were insulated against such conditions like her boots were, Kelly’s frustration was quickly turning to a sort of downtrodden resignation. Maybe the keys had found their way all the way down, to some buried grate, and she would never get them back. If that was the case, she would just have to face facts and find out about getting another set; maybe one of the mechanics in the Complex could do something. She didn’t know, wasn’t really thinking clearly about solutions right now, rather focusing on the problem and the typicality of it. These sorts of things always happened at the end of the day.

Having not expected company, Kelly was startled when someone came closer, and she showed her surprise with a small start. “Oh, um…” Looking down, she admitted defeat. “Thank you, yes, that… I’d appreciate it.” With a sigh, she shook her hair back, confessing, “I dropped my keys.”