She barely got the words from her mouth to ask of his brother when they arrived at her place.  It wasn't much.  She didn't need much, which was good because she couldn't afford much.  It isn't like they pay you a grand wage at the store to take money and intimidate would be shoplifters.  She wasn't very good at intimidating anyways.  So she thought it evened out.  She did keep a tidy space.  She hated clutter.  She lived in it at the store most the waking hours.  It was just peace to come home to walls you could see and floors you could move across.<br/><br/>Her walls were rather bare as well.  Having no one but her mother in life, pictures were sparse.  She did enjoy a good painting, but saw no need to have the low quality junk she could afford.  She was saving up for a real piece of art.  Something she could rest her eyes on and fill her mind with endless thoughts.  The furniture was all second hand, but not garbage.  She was poor, but not trash.  She took great care to find the best she could get for her money.  She had one piece of furniture she loved.  It was an antique chair.  Some old guy died and his family threw this chair out.  She happened to be driving by it and picked it up off the street.  It had a few stains, but she carefully worked them out.  The red velvet was faded, but the wood was good and solid.  There was a table under the window for Miss Kit.  A pillow laid on the table, full of the soft grey and peach fur.  Her food on the floor next to the table.  There was no TV or computer.  She had no need of them.  But the shelves were full of books.  Novels mostly, some poetry.  Oddly, she had a desk.  Tidy enough to be mistaken for unused.  One drawer held in it sketch books.  She wasn't very good, but she enjoyed the attemtps.  Another drawer held journals.  Writings of all sorts, actual journals, stories and poetry - even an odd essay here and there.  Again, she wasn't all that great, but it gave her pleasure.  There was a music system with classical near it.  By the wear and tear on the cases, it was obvious she used her music a lot.<br/><br/>As soon as they arrived at her place, she opened the door of the car and looked around to check for the path of least noticability.  Last thing she needed was to be grilled about this amazing car and her lack of clothes.  She blushed at the thought.  They would never believe.  She marks her path and darts to the door and up the stairs.  She pauses for nothing and no one in hopes of not being seen.  She reaches the door and finds the note.  Instant panic wells up inside her.  She goes to unlock the door and realizes she left her purse at the store.  Her keys are not there.