Date Night Disaster

"Damn it!" Claudia hissed, narrowly avoiding a collision with a jet-black blur that shot out from under a parked car. The shock sent her stumbling, her hand instinctively reaching for the nearest lamp post – a maneuver that almost cost her a flawless application of ruby red lipstick.

"This city," she muttered, righting herself and sending a dirty look toward the alleyway from which the feline missile had launched, "is being overrun by furry little ninjas. And they have terrible timing."

Yanking out her tiny, ornate pocket watch (a family heirloom with a penchant for drama, much like herself), Claudia realized she was officially ten minutes late. Not exactly the grand entrance she'd envisioned for this meticulously planned date night. "Just great," she grumbled, "as if I needed another reason to chuck this 'Love Maestro' playbook in the trash."