A few hours later, when she was finally done cleaning the attic to her satisfaction, Jennifer headed back downstairs to the kitchen. There on the refrigerator was a shopping list. She grabbed it, then headed out. She had to pick up a few things at the store for that night. As usual, she did the cooking. And it was always healthy, she made sure of it. She'd never do anything to damage her body. That was why she was in such good health at 40 years old. Although, again, people couldn't really see her beauty, thanks to her use of minimal make-up, and her choice in clothing. But she really didn't see a reason to show herself off. She was, after all, married. She didn't want to give other men the wrong ideas. Still, she never wanted to look ugly, always wearing clothing that looked pretty, but conservative.
Heading out to her car, she waved at her neighbor Mrs. Josephine Watson, who was doing some pruning in her side yard. She and her husband had been married for thirty years, both of them in their 50's now. Like Jennifer, and a lot of other people in this neighborhood, Josephine was conservatively dressed, but unlike Jennifer, she kind of let her body go. She wasn't fat or anything like that, but she could do to lose a few pounds. She'd never tell her that out loud. She wasn't a mean and vindictive person. But it didn't stop her from having that opinion of the woman. Despite her weight problems, Josephine was a decently kind person.
After driving for a few minutes, she made it to the grocery store without incident. Once inside, though, that was a different matter. Things were going smoothly enough; she was able to find everything she was looking for, but when she got to the checkout line, she was bothered by another woman.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" this other woman suddenly blurted out. Jennifer turned and looked at her. She recognized her. It was Megan Summers, the "trophy wife" of one of the richer men in town. The man was a bit out of Jennifer's league, but even so, he wasn't her type. Apparently he was this woman's type. She must have been at least twenty years younger than her husband. That was like a woman dating her father! She felt disgusted by this woman, the type of person she was. But again, she wasn't the type to verbally make a fuss about it.
"What are you talking about?"
"You're cutting in line. I was here first."
Jennifer blinked. "No you weren't."
"Do you have any idea who I am? Because ..."
"Yes, you're Megan Summers, the woman who's married to a man old enough to be her father," Jennifer said, her eyes going wide. Why did she just say that? She was clearly ticked off by this woman, but that was just rude.
"Hey, who I marry is my business, bitch," Megan spat.
"Oh yeah?" Jennifer said, before reaching out and grabbing the 20-something's bare arm.
"Hey, what the hell are you ..."
Jennifer had no idea what she was doing. She had this strong desire to grab the woman's arm, so she did, but she still had no idea why. It was the same kind of compulsion she felt earlier that day when she tried to remove the necklace that was still hidden beneath her blouse.
She felt a jolt of something move through her hand, and Megan jumped slightly, as if she had been shocked by electricity.
