Winter in Iowa being notoriously dull and grey, it was no wonder Ginny was reaching her peak selling season. So it was even less of a wonder that she had been up into morning hours filling every last order she had received the day before, and packaging them to be shipped out on Monday. For someone who sold so many subscriptions and ran such a large company it even amazed her some days that she could possibly run the entire business on her own. All editing, cutting, technical repairs, sales, shipping and investments were run by one slender ginger with a lot of time on her hands. But even movie moguls need their beauty sleep, and at some time around 5:00am she finally passed out on her keyboard.
When she woke around two in the afternoon she had keymarks all over her forearms. Bored with her surroundings, Ginny pushed back from her desk and moved carefully around her bunker, gathering supplies needed to make one of those hundreds of repairs that could crop up. Today she would visit a very important camera that needed tending to. She quickly threw a crop top over her head, strapped on her tennis shoes and adjusted her jeans before grabbing onto her ladder and hauling herself out of her home. The main floor of Gordmans was quiet. Most people that had once lived there had since moved out, and the handful that were left wouldn't be up for a couple of hours.
Once located, the camera (the one that was positioned above the front doors and served as a general lookout into the parking lot), was easily found to be, well...dead. The girl headed back inside only long enough to grab a newer, more heavy-duty camera and a ladder, and set herself up to start working. Perched atop that ladder, ten feet in the air, you would imagine she could have seen just about anything or anyone coming her way.