Who: Jemma Simmons and Clarke Griffin Murphy What: Running into a friend When: Monday afternoon Where: near the general store Warnings: TBD Status: Closed/Match-up/On-going
“Mrs Murphy!” Jemma called out, hurrying across the street when she spotted the younger woman coming out of the general store. It wasn’t a rare thing to run into someone she recognized in town, a lot of the local ladies knew each other, helped one another out. Many of them, her young friend included, had stepped up to help provide for the house when Jemma’s husband had died several months ago.
They weren’t the closest, but they were certainly friendly and it was a happy coincidence that Jemma had something the other woman might be interested in.
“The postmaster asked if I saw you to say you’ve a parcel down that way, if you’ve the time to fetch it while you’re out and about today.” It was always more convenient, and most certainly faster, to collect one’s own mail if already in town, deliveries really more useful to those who weren’t. And having lived outside of town on her family’s farm prior to her marriage, Jemma knew that waiting on a delivery could be dangerous to the contents of a parcel, and was bound to take much longer than it really ought to.
It was only for that that she was always willing to pass along a message.