Who: Tish - Open if you think you could do something with it, but stand alone if not What: Some jerk steals Tish's purse, she emerges with bruises and covered in apple pie. I'm serious. Where: Outside and eventually inside of the complex When: Present day, later on at night “Stupid flu,” Tish mumbled to herself, scrubbing furiously at something stubbornly stuck on the front counter of the restaurant she was employed at. The place had been severely understaffed recently due to five of the employees, four of them waitresses like Tish, catching a monster flu bug. She was glad to be healthy, but it left her with more work to do. Her boss was fair and paid for her extra shifts, constantly telling her how much her filling in for the others was appreciated. It wasn’t him that she was angry at. He was too nice a guy for her to be very upset with. Instead she directed her inner monologue to the virus that was the real source of this trouble.
Her eyes drifted to the clock on the wall, watching the second hand tick until it was time for her shift to end, right on the dot. She picked up an apple pie she intended to take back to the complex to share, slipped into her jacket, and swung her purse over her shoulder.
“See you in the morning!” Tish shouted, smiling even though her boss was in the back and unable to see the expression. She didn’t wait for his reply. She was too tired to stick around for pleasantries.
It wasn’t exactly a long walk from the restaurant to the complex and it had never seemed like a dangerous area to her before, but she was still nervous at the constant sound of footsteps behind her. Her strides became a little more hurried and she clutched both her purse and the box with the pie inside closer to her body, though it was unlikely that anyone was going to steal baked goods.
Just as soon as she looked over her shoulder, a man collided with her, shoving her into a brick wall. It was so sudden that she couldn’t form words like ‘help’ or even ‘fire’. All she was aware of at the moment was an intense pain in her head and the sticky pie filling on her jacket. She’d heard before that if a person is threatened with violence they should give up their valuables in favor of escaping without injury, but she wasn’t thinking. She clung to her purse for what seemed like a long time, but relented after she hit her head again. After a moment she was aware that she heard more footsteps. Now they were running away, making an escape. She was relieved.
For a second or two she just sat there in a pathetic little heap on the sidewalk. She gave a sniffle and wobbled to her feet. It hadn’t quite hit her, yet. She was in a daze as she stumbled into the apartment complex. Tish assumed that she was quite a sight with pie all over her clothing and what felt like a couple of nasty bruises on her forehead.