So far, this is the shortness of the intro

[.Never.Forever.]

Sally Walker lived in the exhilarating world of white-walled apartments, television sets, and microwaves clear of concepts of the natural human mind. Both were the essence of Sally’s life and were required for her everyday rituals of eating and some form of informal education that she believed held the utmost importance to her life and she would defend that reasoning within an inch of her death. These feats alone were simply what she considered home-life. But there was a world far superior then her doublewide above and below other doublewides, and that was where the adventure began.

Vanward of the day she seemingly fell in love her days consisted of precise planning and careful arrangements of furniture that were completely necessary for the maintenance of her sanity and, in all otherwise, her life. To assist her with such rigorous detail was a faux leather-bound planner to which she thought she owed her life for its incredible work in the line of duty. In said planner were recorded the most descriptive notes of her day of which she would cherish one day when she would have become much too frail in old age to write anything farther than ‘went to st’ before her fragile hand would break down mid-fragmental sentence, leaving the story at a terrifying cliff-hanger for some non-existent reader to be left in suspense as to whether she went to the store or to a strip club. In that particular case, she would be left only to be able to read the moments of her life with a loving and nostalgic affection. But Sally Walker was afraid that she may never make it to that old age. Yes, she would fear the idea greatly that she would not be able to record her every move in even the quickest of notes, but she feared death far more; for death could not be predicted, and therefore, not be recorded in her planner.

Sally confirmed that her obsessive impulses would be the cause of her death when she nearly step in front of a bus because she had taken 3476 steps on the cement and felt that the asphalt seemed far ill-treated when it came to the lesser number of pedestrian usage footsteps. She was also aware that her very-nearly uncontrollable compulsions would cause an irregular stir in passer-by conversation when she came upon an irritation of what she claimed to be bacteria-consumed air, flicking nervously at the flecks of dust of which she could only assume were large bacteria cells rushing her nostrils but could only be seen as they floated in the grimy sunlight. And she could only assume that this was due to the fact that they were otherwise invisible and the sunlight permeated their clear bodies and revealed them to the unsuspecting world reducing them to obfuscating on ATM machines and paper-towel dispensers. “You’re polluted,” Sally would say as she flicked, more politely than insult required and would result in turned heads and awkward glances from complete strangers that she had no desire to know after her more than embarrassing first impression.

She found that their was a far greater percentage of right-turns than left and would find herself turning left in a complete circle and regularly used this tactic to catch a cab or board a bus. Calling for a taxi was a task itself as it called for very specific instructions to which she consulted her handy planner. In a short mo she would be raising lifting a fist, lowering it to tap her pocket, then raising all five fingers spread wide and vocalizing her need, “T-taxi!!” adding the stutter purposefully because the word was obviously unsymmetrical, small and needed her delightfully and faultless skills to set it right. She often did something along the lines of this whenever she felt that the world had made a dire mistake in perfection and she felt obligated to rectify every discrepancy she came across that much resembled this particular instance.
 

[Kinthia]

I actually enjoy the intro. I was getting into it too. But I love it.  

[.Never.Forever.]

♥


Yeah, I'm working on the rest.


♥  

[.Never.Forever.]

BTW: I just edited a little of it.  

[.Never.Forever.]

Ick.
I need to fix a lot of grammar.
Ignore that shtuff.  

[I am Jaques colon]

You have a decent command of the english language. But, depending upon how long this took you to produce, you're going to have to choose between novel and magazine article. I like it, though. And you've got a great character here.