Jan almost always wore flats.

They had been the first thing she unpacked when she moved in with Priscilla and the brunette thought they were impractical and childish. She said she had gotten a job at the pajama factory, sewing buttons. Priscilla could almost smell the innocence on her: in the red pants and sweater she came clad in, the dresses, jackets, pants, and blouses she hung up with great care in the closet, her flats, all colorful, lined up against the wall, the 'MAINE' sweatshirt she wore to bed. Jan explained she was too tall- and she certainly was, taller than Priscilla- to wear any shoes but flats, and said she had been almost taller than her boyfriend. Then she laughed, a tight, choked sound, and Priscilla found her a bit less innocent than before.

When they started work on Monday, Jan sprayed on a bit of perfume from a rounded bottle- "For good luck," she said and laughed that strangled laugh- she smelled far from innocent. Priscilla didn't know what to make of the blonde anymore.

Priscilla helped Jan on the first few days, until she got the hang of it. It seemed she was a quick learner, because soon she became better and faster than the brunette, and sometimes Priscilla stopped to marvel at the girl's quick fingers. Each night they shared a small dinner: mac and cheese, chicken tenders, Lucky Charms. They talked about work, home, and their wages, keeping up a friendly competition. Jan said the brunette was the best friend she ever had as they split a Hershey's bar. The two beamed at each other with a chocolatey smile.

A month and a half after the blonde moved in, Priscilla was finally glad Jan wore flats as she stretched up on her toes and pressed her lips to the other girl's.