Stephanie Prestridge

A Little Force

It was a normal day when the letter arrived. A young woman was returning to her apartment after a rather uneventful day at the little bakery where she worked. The young woman had short, wavy hair that was dyed a blush pink, and had bangs that almost covered her eyes. She wore circular glasses with a gold frame, and behind those gold glasses were dusty green irises. The woman’s skin was pale as can be, with many small, circular scars dotting her legs, each one discolored and almost purple. The scars were all from mosquito bites. Her outfit was simple, a yellow hoodie and jeans, along with a little black backpack hanging off one shoulder. People called her Rosemary.