Vera sighed, shifting her position on the park bench as she turned the pages of her book. She was currently engrossed in an intriguing theory regarding the Black Dahlia murder, taking notes of the writer's obsservatios and speculations. t made sense, the way this person put it; it seemed to be a plausible hypothesis of the killer's thought process. She crossed her legs, unable to get comfortable but trying nonetheless; she missed her old home, where she'd had a wonderful little nook in which to study. Unortunately, after Father was locked up she'd had to fend for herself, renting a tiny apartment in a rather undesireable part of town, and in all honesty, the cold hard parkbench was much more comfortable than her own home. She let her time be consumed for hours, pushing through a good fraction of the library book before she felt a raindrop hit her head. Assuming it was only a drizzle, she shrugged it off, until it soon began to pour, soaking her clothes. Wishing she'd brought a coat, Vera put her book under her shirt, hugging it close to herself to keep it dry, and jogged through the park and down the sidewalk to her apartment complex which was about a mile away. Upon arriving home, she wrung out her hair as she walked up five flights of stairs before unlocking her door and stepping inside the little studio apartment. She sighed again, setting her book down on the little wooden table in the corner, which was one of the only pieces of furniture, along with a plain wooden chair and a small mattress on the floor. The table was her kitchen table and her desk all in one. She examined the nearly empty refrigerator, pulling out the package of turkey and a slice of that plastic cheese. She threw together a quick turkey and cheese sandwich, sitting at her table and delicately opening her book. Hopefully if she had no more distractions, she could finish the book by the end of the day, and come one step closer to justice.