This is a Work In Progress and I am sharing it solely to receive feedback.

NO PEDDLERS, PLEASE!

What works? What doesn't? Where do you see it leading? Where would you like to see it leading? Does it hook you and make you want to read more? If not, what killed it for you? These are all questions for you to consider answering, or tell me whatever else is on your mind in regards. Please, let me know in the Comments below.

The writing will also be evolving, as the story and characters are being developed as I go, so certain parts may change after they have been read by you as I consider the feedback I receive. Your input does matter to me.

Imogen can scarcely wait to get inside her apartment. Outside was bad, but the apartment building's stairwell to the third floor and the hallways are not warmed either. The landlord has fielded complaints from multiple tenants regarding it, but it is one of his ways of saving money. Another is having only one of the four shared washing machines downstairs functioning at any given time. The elevator is still out of order too, which makes one wonder if that is another cost-saving method of his.

She rattles her key around the key slot, trying to straighten and slide it in, before having success in unlocking her door and pushing it open. Her hands are trembling, most likely from still being cold, she tells herself, and not from the blunt force trauma she gave herself earlier. It is not the first time. She has survived it before.

Her cat, Osiris, swaggers over and brushes against her legs to show how happy he is that she has returned. She has had him since her previous cat, Isis, passed away two years ago, but he is going on five years old, having been a rescue from a shelter miles from here.

The warmth feels so nice. A warm day at the beach would be better, but her fair skin burns easily if she forgets to slather herself in sunblock. Still, after switching on a few lamps, she imagines that she is there. This is one beach that needs some serious trash cleanup though. Soiled plates, food wrappers, and bottles litter the surfaces and floor of her living room and kitchen. Dishes and pots sit stacked on the counter by the sink and ready to be cleaned. Her bedroom is not much better, with candy wrappers and clothes strewn about.

There is no time for cleaning right now. There is always the later that rarely arrives, usually twenty minutes before she is expecting a guest to drop by. Right now, she needs to focus on the project for work.

Osiris rises against her pant leg and gently claws at it, his combination of stretching, showing affection, and trying to garner her attention to feed him. Looking at her phone to see if she missed any messages and check the time, Imogen tells him, "You don't get fed for another two hours, buddy. You can wait." Osiris meows at her, as though knowing that he is being denied. "Okay, but just a few treats. Do you think you can leave me alone for a bit while I get some work done?" He meows in a higher tone that sounds like he is agreeing to her request, but probably not.

After Osiris is happily munching away on his vittles, Imogen wades through her bedroom floor over to her worksurface table and unpacks the laptop from her bag to set it up. The apartment is fraught with distractions vying for her attention, like the TV or anime figures or the refrigerator, but Imogen is committed this time to staying focused. She has to show Monique that she is capable of accomplishing great things and meeting deadlines.