The Universe's Mixer

Fred had thought the inventor meeting had gone well.  She'd met some interesting people, creating a larger social network, which if anyone really knew the brainy girl would be surprised.  Oh, it wasn't that she didn't have friends, but she had spent five years conversing with...well, pretty much herself, and this was all new, or renew?  Fred had decided to take in another meeting; this one was a little different - bumps in the night and all that.

She hoped she wouldn't be the first, but she didn't want to be late.  Unfortunately she was having something of a problem finding her way to the Community Center, which was only slightly annoying.  But, she wasn't going to stop.  She just kept walking, eventually she'd get there, or she'd get somewhere else.  Really, that was always a given.  If you kept walking, eventually you get somewhere.  Maybe not where you intended, but it was somewhere.  Usually a somewhere else - no stepping in the same river and all that.

Fred had taken to carrying the clip board, and she'd liked Violet's idea of a little notebook.  Maybe she'd have to get one, but she really didn't think she'd like having something to remember.  Then again, if she didnt' have something to remember, she'd forget whatever it was she was trying to remember in her something to remember.  Her lips thinned for a moment as she paused to see exactly where she was.  Where was that Community Center?

Two hours of painting and Mother hadn't complained about the soft canary yellow paint that Norman was using to spruce up the outside of the motel. He'd expected that she would throw a fit about the color. Or that he was changing anything to the motel at all. But she didn't. At least, she hadn't yet. And it was always possible that she would. Mother didn't keep working hours, after all. She struck when it amused her and when she knew she could get a rouse out of poor Norman (or any other poor soul that was on her property.)

Norman didn't know if the change in color would attract more residents. He didn't even know if anyone would notice. It had taken him a while, but he had eventually noticed that he (and his motel) were distinctly less ... colorful ... than the rest of The City. In fact, he felt very monochromatic. Or perhaps it was more like bi-chromatic? All black and white with a few smattering of grays. He saw that the paint was a soft canary yellow. He just didn't know if anyone else in The City would.
( They'll come. )