Well, maybe not cry, maybe just scream really, really loudly. But her frustration level had reached an all time high for sure. She dug furiously through her satchel, dropping items on the ground one by one until everything had been removed from the bag. “This can’t be happening.” She was mostly talking to herself, though Ian stood right behind her. “I knew it, I just knew it. This is so my luck today.” “What’s wrong?” He asked, though it was pretty clear what the problem was. Attempting to straighten the smirk on his face, he found it a difficult accomplishment. Naturally, he sympathized with her stress, but her uncharacteristic behavior that week had been completely entertaining. In fact, he thought he might even like this disheveled, unorganized version of Reagan even more...if that were even a possibility. “My keys.” She finally announced as she turned the bag upside down and gave it one last desperate shake for emphasis. Pennies and lip gloss sticks ricocheted off the cement landing.
