![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
i_jump in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
we_coexist
Reap or Not to Reap [ Jeannie ]
Betty scrunched her nose and narrowed her eyebrows, looking from the post-it in her hand to the woman she was following and back again. This was surreal. It had to be her.
She had been quite mentally displaced to come home to find post in notes everywhere in her borrowed apartment. In her shoes, in her purse, in her closet in her bed. The worst part of them was that they weren't particularly organized in any way shape or form. They just were there. No sequential stacking, nothing.
So she figured she'd start by grabbing one and just going from there. Start small, stay busy, work quickly. At this rate maybe she'd hit her quota soon.
Periwinkle heels that matched her favorite periwinkle dress perfectly clicked on the pavement as she followed the woman in pink. Looking back at the post it, Betty was annoyed that it didn't give her any more information other than a first name. Or at least what she assumed was a first name.
All it said was: Jeannie.
Maybe Jeannie was meant as a descriptor, because what this woman was wearing was unreal. Completely and utterly unreal. Beyond unreal. It was just bizarre. It was like something out of a Halloween catalog.
She tucked the post-it into her handbag, fingered her hair and picked up her pace a bit with the hopes of catching up to her.
She had been quite mentally displaced to come home to find post in notes everywhere in her borrowed apartment. In her shoes, in her purse, in her closet in her bed. The worst part of them was that they weren't particularly organized in any way shape or form. They just were there. No sequential stacking, nothing.
So she figured she'd start by grabbing one and just going from there. Start small, stay busy, work quickly. At this rate maybe she'd hit her quota soon.
Periwinkle heels that matched her favorite periwinkle dress perfectly clicked on the pavement as she followed the woman in pink. Looking back at the post it, Betty was annoyed that it didn't give her any more information other than a first name. Or at least what she assumed was a first name.
All it said was: Jeannie.
Maybe Jeannie was meant as a descriptor, because what this woman was wearing was unreal. Completely and utterly unreal. Beyond unreal. It was just bizarre. It was like something out of a Halloween catalog.
She tucked the post-it into her handbag, fingered her hair and picked up her pace a bit with the hopes of catching up to her.