Torie, Torie, Torie. What are we going to do with ourselves?
…It was a black, sweltering Sunday evening. We each had our respective busy days and I came home to a dark apartment. You had gone to bed early. Very peculiar, indeed. Most peculiar of all, at some point that night, the mysterious long, colorful beaded necklace slithered and slinked from… wherever I left it… to your jewelry case. How in the world did that happen without either of us noticing? We must be getting old.
And therein lies the non-solution of the no longer missing necklace.
And so it goes,
Katie, the girl who did NOT lose her roommate’s favorite necklace.