It had been an uneventful day, which was the problem. The dull, uninspired day was what gnawed at her, and perhaps that was what kept Julia staring out the window of her 5 th floor apartment with a look of discontentment on her face. The day had not been bad by any means, it was lovely outside, birds chirping, children laughing, the whole nine yards as they say, but that did not stop Julia from feeling melancholy.
Melancholy was about the worst thing a writer could face of course and Julia Peterson was just such a person. A strand of her dark red hair fell in front of her face as she watched the world outside her window and broke her from her stupor as she brushed it out of her face. Julia looked towards her computer, the blank screen awaiting her, taunting her, daring her to sit down and fill it with words. A small frown appeared on the woman’s face as she stood, stepping over Gearbox, resident mouser and lap warmer extraordinaire, or to put it more simply, the stray cat she’d adopted in spite of it being forbidden by her lease.
Gearbox looked up at her and gave a soft meow, looking over the woman’s shapely frame in the appraising way only a cat is capable of, the gaze of a creature that didn’t exactly care what she looked like, but looked all the same. The observation turned back what it always would, a slightly tall redheaded woman with soft grey eyes that seemed indicative of a kind nature, who had somehow managed to keep most of the desserts she’d enjoyed in her life out from her hips,. A decent pair of breasts hung from her chest, a little bigger than the lady herself liked, but Gearbox found the perky things quite comfortable to sleep on overnight. The lady’s lap also tended to appeal to the small grey tabby, but the rest of the lady’s body, the cat dismissed as unimportant.
Julia sat at her computer and minimized the taunting program, tensing up a little as someone does when a cat hops on their lap when they was nothing between claws and the bare skin of their thighs. She opened her email and scrolled through the spam, notifications from social services that she barely checked, one sale of her most recent book, which was something she supposed. The mundanely of it all got to her some days. The young woman managed to get by writing for a living, but it gave her a wanderlust that she could not really afford to satisfy. She could write stories about far off worlds and wonderful adventures day in and day out, but it would never change the fact that at the end of the day she was still just an average 27 year old woman in a cut rate apartment trying to make ends meet off of petty writer’s pay.
The scrolling stopped at an odd email, the subject line read “Julia, meet me at Atmey park, 5PM, don’t be late.” Her brow furrowed as she read the subject, the sender’s name was “XtoyourY”, with the hosting site for the email was tacked on at the end of course, making it look a bit awkward. Julia opened the email to see if the body of the message had any more information, but it was blank aside from a single X on the page.
Julia leaned back in her chair and scratched behind Gearbox’s ears, the cat suddenly remembered, the lady’s hands were nice too, breasts, lap, hands, the cat could not quite put them order of preference. =
“Who the fuck do you suppose this is?” she asked aloud, the cat looked up at her, it’s grey ear flicking slightly from the scratching, Gearbox was a sharp kitty, but was still simply a cat, it offered her no answer aside from purring. Maybe it was hands, hands might be the best, but the little fuzzball concluded that more testing was required.
Julia checked the clock on the wall; it was about 4:30 in the afternoon. If she wanted to find out the mystery sender‘s identity, she’d need to head to the park pretty soon. Of course, checking out an anonymous email telling her to meet them somewhere was foolhardy, possibly dangerous AND stupid. The potential reward besides