This sprang from an assignment for Fiction Writing in fall 2015, which read: "Take your notebook and go to a place where you can observe people – a library, restaurant, bus station, whatever. Choose a few people and describe them in detail in your notebook. What are they wearing? What are they doing and why do you think they're doing it? If they are talking, can you overhear (or guess) what they're saying? What are they thinking? Next, choose one character and invent a life for him or her. Write at least two pages. Where does s/he live? Work? What relationships does s/he have? Worries? Fears? Desires? Pleasures? Does this character have a secret? Do you find yourself beginning a story?" I took my notebook to ward prayer and observed one of the bishopric members and his wife. I couldn't help but notice that she was dressed like a movie star and he looked ready to hit the beach. The talking ferret was introduced just so I could have more dialogue as opposed to pure exposition, and inspired the talking dog in "It Ain't Ogre Till It's Ogre".

Jennifer and Lance

"Hey, Lance?"

"HEY! Talk to me, babe!"

Jennifer held the phone away from her face a little more and winced as his voice exacerbated her hangover migraine from the previous night. "Yeah, um, hi," she said. "Listen, I'm gonna go for it. Let's seal the deal."

She could almost hear him smiling in that ingratiating way he had. "Sugar, that's what I like to hear! You just leave everything to me, mmkay? Gotta split. Catch you on the flip side." Click.

With that taken care of, what she needed now was a nap, and she would sleep better knowing that Lance was on top of things. He'd always gotten her whatever part she wanted in the past, and there was no reason to believe this time would be an exception.

Her pet ferret, Otto, was staring at her with a quizzical expression. She almost imagined she could hear him say, "Well?"

"No worries, Otto," she said. "We got this."

She headed for the bathroom to take an aspirin and paused to admire herself in the mirror. With her short, coiffed brown hair and sunglasses, she looked younger than her forty-three years, and she was still in good enough shape to fit in her old leather boots and skinny jeans from high school. She didn't even need Botox.

Behind her, she saw that Otto had followed her in, and was giving her a look that said, "My, aren't we full of ourselves?"

"Oh, stop it," she snapped back. "I'm just counting my blessings, that's all."

"Do it while you can, girl," he said.

She scowled at him. "How'd you like to go back in your cage?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Just saying. I don't want you to set yourself up for a big fall. Ever seen 'Evita'?"

She had, and she'd played the lead role in her high school's production. She wasn't amused. "I'm not kidding," she said. "Knock it off."

"I'm just saying –"

"Beat it!" She took one of her pumps off and threw it at him. He darted back out the door, and it landed in the garbage can instead.

She clutched the edge of the sink for a moment as she got woozy and nearly fell down. A nap, yes, she needed a nap. Why had she let that flea-bitten furball get to her again? She loved him, though, and realized she should apologize. She would buy him a treat later.

Time to refocus on happy thoughts as she took her aspirin and retired to bed. Lance would pull through for her like he always did. He could be annoying sometimes, but from the moment he'd discovered her, he'd been the most reliable and capable agent a girl could ask for. Musing on this, she smiled and fell asleep.

"Ow!" she cried out in response to her still-throbbing head as the buzz of her cell phone jarred her awake. She cursed herself for forgetting to turn it off, but then brightened immediately when she saw who it was. "Hey, Lance."

"Hey, babe," he said, noticeably lacking his usual enthusiasm. "Um, so, this is kind of awkward, but... we've hit a bit of a snag."