Claire, a college freshman.

Claire sat alone in a corner of the nightclub, enviously studying those with more confidence hooking up at the bar or vying for attention on the dancefloor. She had hoped that college could be her fresh start, but already had the sinking realisation that she was destined to once again be the mousy little nerd that was perpetually the outsider and the loner that barely registered and whose name and face were instantly forgettable. She was already regretting leaving the college room she had moved into just a few hours ago and her attempt to break out of hr shell and socialise. With a heavy sigh, she decided to head back to the college dorms, despite the fact that it was only ten PM and the club was only now beginning to fill. Perhaps by now her roommate may have arrived, and she would at least be able to meet one person in a setting she was more comfortable in.

At nineteen, Claire was still what her family hopefully referred to as a late bloomer. Her hair was lank and shoulder-length, a mousy light brown that fitted her personality perfectly. At five feet tall, Claire was below average height, with breasts that had scarcely budded and, unless her clothing was particularly tight, were almost unnoticeable. Plain and sensible glasses magnified her muddy brown coloured eyes. Claire was still a virgin, not by choice or any sense of saving herself, simply that she lacked confidence or courage and froze or fled in the rare circumstances when boys actually registered her existence and summoned enough **** fueled interest to approach her.

Claire picked up her empty glass and headed towards the bar, intending to leave it on the counter as she exited. Even in a nightclub, she unconsciously felt obliged to clear her table before leaving. As she neared the bar, a small group of young men unintentionally barred her way as they loudly talked and joked amongst themselves. Claire attempted to skirt around them, but one, making expansive hand gestures as he talked, took a step back as his arm swung and knocked her. The glass was knocked from her hand and fell to the floor, and broke. The young guy barely glanced at Claire and mumbled a perfunctory apology before moving away with his friends towards another area of the club.

Claire, of course, felt obliged to pick up the shards of glass and knelt to gather them up. As she carefully picked each piece up, she noticed a glint of red light on the floor right up against the bottom of the counter. Distracted as she reached for the red glint, she pricked the ball of her thumb on an unnoticed shard of glass as her fingers closed around a necklace with a red, heart-shaped gem setting that had reflected the nightclub lights, no doubt.

Placing the little pile of glass shards on the bar top, Claire looked for a member of the club staff she could report to and hand the necklace to, but the servers were all busy further down the bar. Blood was welling around the glass shard still embedded in her thumb, so Claire decided she should head to the restroom and deal with that first and then hand in the lost property as she exited the nightclub.