Prologue One

Hello.
My name is Jenny, Jenny Maroone.
Some would call me bleak, and some would even say I pass by unnoticed.
I am the kind of woman you bump into at the supermarket; the woman who drops all her groceries, and fumbles to pick them up while assuring you no harm is done, and ten minutes later you won't remember it even happened.
Everything about me is very normal. My pale green eyes, my dark-blond hair, my worn leather purse and my walking shoes. I was raised in a very normal family, my father being a postman and my mother a neat and tidy housewife. Unlike me, my sister Mary grew up to walk in our mother's footsteps. She got herself a husband and two children, and she's very comfortable in her moderately happy everyday life. She's very moderate, my sister. And so am I.

I live in an apartment complex in a suburban area just outside Bristol. I like it here, it's pretty quiet. Nothing much happens, beside the usual unusual behaviour of my neighbours.
On the first floor lives Catwoman. She's not really a woman anymore, since she's somewhere between the age of sixtyfive and death. It's hard to tell because she wears a wig and a horrendous amount of make-up.
The reason she owned herself the nickname I gave her, is that she owns seven cats - I know because she told me - and they're all named after old movie stars. My favourite is Marilyn, a white, long-haired cat with grey markings around the eyes which makes it look like she wears a lot of eyeliner.
On the second floor there's a family with two small children, and on the third floor lives a young man. He is extremely colourful, I believe he might be... how to put it, fruity?
He is an inspiring artist, and everything that comes with that line of work. I can hear him through my floor all the night, working on some new masterpiece, dropping his wine glass and listening to jazz music with the volume turned up way too loud.
I don't mind it though, I don't own a stereo myself.
Me, I live on the top floor. It's a pretty small apartment, this. Only a kitchen, a small bedroom and a combined hallway and sitting room. I don't need much more, mind, it's more than enough for me and Mr. Gray.
Mr. Gray is my tabby cat, quite the character too. He is very picky with his food, and he doesn't like men, which is one of the reasons I am still unmarried.
The other reason would be my job. I work as a librarian, a quiet, never-changing job, which suits me very fine. It doesn't present you with many dating opportunities though, and I suspect I will die the way I entered this world.
Quite, and completely, alone.