She wore a pink dress and high heels and carried a box of books into the local jail. She had three more boxes in her car and felt out of place delivering them. At least she had put on the dress, though it made her look delicate like lace. Jeans made her look all of her nineteen years. And maybe the dress made her look older and maybe it didn't, but it sure made her feel older, and she needed to feel a little older in the face of criminals, she felt.
Maybe good deeds and jails just didn't go together, she supposed. But she'd gotten all these donations and she had no place to put them. It hadn't been her most well-thought-out plan.
Jails were scary. She wasn't even near a cell and this jail was scary. Pink dresses didn't go with criminals.
After all, she had never seen a criminal wearing a pink dress.
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