Today would be no different. They flexed at her.
The creative half of her brain became an inferno of all those groovy neurotransmitters and hormone releases that inspire and inspire and INSPIRE.
She searched around in her locker box, snagged a thick paperclip, one she had stolen from the case manager's office the previous week. Laughably, she had felt really bad for taking it. It was an opportunity she had to seize, she told herself at the time - also thinking she might get busted from the stupid guilty face she made after palming it off the lady's desk. Clarice wasn't exactly overwhelmed with pride at becoming a petty thief, but she just about managed not to confess or offer to handcuff herself before she left the office, and stashed the booty for the purpose of forging a sewing needle.
