Zooey spun around on her toes, her feet making annoying squeeking sounds on the hardwood flooring as she twisted. She looked down at herself and smiled broadly at her bare feet, polka dotted underwear and Fritz’s Cat Steven’s tshirt that hung loosely on her shoulders.

Fritz scratched at his unshaven chin as he watched Zooey excitedly pace around from room to room, her shadow dancing behind her in the candlelit hallway as if she were part of an entertaining vaudville act.

She returned to the couch still in Fritz’s tshirt with an African print skirt she had purchased at the Haight Ashbury street fair two summer’s ago, and one turqouise suede boot on her left foot.

“It’s so great that I’m unorganized,” she gasped as she hopped about on one foot, adjusting the boot, “or else I’d never get any excercise…”

She ducked down under the daisy printed sofa, lifting up Fritz’s feet, and crawling underneath. He could hear her muffled voice from under the sofa.

“I found it!”