It was a very gloomy day; the fog had yet to dissipate, leaving Eula and those at the Infirmary trapped between their homes and work. She was mourning the temporary loss of the Irvingly market—one of the weekly events and always attended—and had strolled past it every day on her way home from work just to see if anyone was about.

Today, there was—only it wasn't one of the sellers, but rather a familiar woman: Miss Marlowe Johnson. The fog made it hard to make out any definite features, but it was obvious that it was her. Two years of living in the same dorm room had ensured her familiarity with the woman's figure and overall image.

"Marli!" she shouted, holding her basket in the air so she might be better seen.

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