The woman on the phone

With that much needed encouragement, it was time for Carla to take the next step. Of course, that's easier said than done in this day and age.

"I'm heading out!" she announced, pulling the door open. But not before taking the time to nuzzle her wife. That was always necessary. No matter what.

Outside, Stepford was the same as ever. Bright and full of lesbians. Not that the latter could so easily be changed in a couple of days.

"To the fabric store." Carla thought, only to catch sight of a stray purse. Making her way over to the accessory, she picked it up and looked around.

"Wait. They found her? Where? Oh."

Eventually, the former punk's gaze came upon a woman talking on the phone. While tempting to just leave the purse right in her lap, she waited patiently until the conversation ended.

"May I help you?" the woman remarked, watching Carla shake the purse about. Taking a deep breath, the former punk handed it over. "Oh. Thank you, for grabbing my purse."

Carla nodded, a thought coming to her.

"Is something wrong?" she inquired, the woman's gaze falling to the floor. "It's alright. I won't tell anyone."

The woman took a deep breath. Carla's offer seemed genuine enough, maybe she would understand this strange situation she found herself in.

"My wife went missing a couple of years in Iraq." the woman continued, trying her to best to maintain eye contact with Carla. "They just found her and remembers me, but she's a far different person."

This time, it was Carla's turn.

"How different?"

The words ring on out, a mix of fear and confusion filling our unlucky soul at the moment. Too much in that moment, she makes her exit.

"Okay..."