In the dark broom closet of a bathroom, pull on a cute and comfortable pair of panties- Snap to the butt. Rifle pile of folded clothes for a matching bra that has definately gone missing. One arm crossed over, lips pucker at the discomfort of the evening ahead. This makes no sense, the shoulders say. Given this negative factor, just pull any damn sweater on. The one hanging on the towel rack, snap, pissed off.

Close the front door firmly behind and square shoulders, a gentle tug at the belt. That first step out the door, when the mood of the evening gets set. Then place a pink envelope on the outgoing mail holder, oversized and bright in the evening dark. It's propped there on the curved metal hooks, and then a hand reaches it quickly and flicks it into the bushes.