I got nothing left to defend.
I cannot pretend
That everything makes sense.
But does it really matter now
If I do not know how
To figure this thing out?
Faith makes everybody scared.
It's the unknown, the don't-know
That keeps me hangin' on...
?Unknown? ~ Lifehouse
Riley woke before dawn, slowly surfacing from the depths of a dream that she'd much rather have finished dreaming. She opened her eyes, blinking blearily into the semi-gloom of her loft. She could feel the cold of the Rhydin winter morning pressing down on her, encouraging her to stay in the warmth of her bed. With Herculean effort, though, she dragged her sleepy body from between the sheets and blankets and padded, bare foot and dressed in Andy's away jersey and black boy shorts, into the kitchen. Sleepy, slightly cold-numb fingers fumbled with coffee filters, bean grinder and finally the coffee maker itself and she took a lean against the counter, waiting with a true caffeine junkie's dry-mouth anticipation for that first cup of black, Heavenly manna.
Taking her mug, this one sporting a smiley face with a bullet hole in the forehead, to the table, she slumped down in a chair, brain still somewhere in the dream she'd been having just before waking. It had been about Stewart McCall, the Australian psychology professor she'd had during her last year at Boston University. She'd been failing the class, mostly due to the fact that he gave pop quizzes on the Fridays she drove down to Pittsburgh when the Penguins were playing at home. Desperate to keep her perfect grade point average and the full-ride offer from Boston College law school, Riley had gone to Professor McCall and asked what she could do to improve her grade.
In retrospect, of course, when he'd told her exactly what she could do to earn a solid A, she should have told him to die in a fire, but she'd been desperate. Funny though, in the dream she'd just had, she had had the strange feeling that someone had been standing in the shadows of the professor's bedroom, watching as Riley earned her A. A smirk curled her lips then, as it dawned on her who'd been watching. ?Lani,? she whispered and shook her head, chuckling. The presence of the succulent succubus in Riley's dreamscape would certainly explain the vividness of an otherwise forgettable encounter with a pasty, paunchy middle-aged Aussie.
A thud against the front door of the loft brought her back to the present and she rose from the table, still cradling the cup of coffee in one hand. Unlocking the deadbolts and the security chain, she slowly opened the door and found the first edition of her new subscription to the RhyDin Post laying on the welcome mat. She grabbed it up, relocked most of the deadbolts and returned to the table. Settling down once more, one hand still wrapped around her coffee, she scanned the paper. Mass murders down at the docks, dueling news, an article mentioning Reap and Harris that made her smile just a little, and finally, the good stuff ? the advertisements and classifieds.
Half an hour and two cups of coffee later, she had finished with the paper and confirmed her suspicions. Time to began her day in earnest. Shedding Andy's jersey for black yoga pants and a lavender-coloured sports bra, she did her daily meditation and yoga. Despite not needing the physical benefits of the exercise any more ? her Cat took care of those needs ? she still needed the peace lent to her by the meditation and the asanas.
After yoga, she showered and then gave serious consideration to her wardrobe. She'd be spending the day in the library and town hall ? if such a thing existed in this god-forsaken, a*s-end of the Universe ? so comfort was uppermost in her mind. Levis, a yellow t-shirt that said ?I only date Pittsburgh Penguins fans? and black Chuck Taylors were selected and she dressed quickly. Slipping into her father's vintage leather motorcycle jacket and putting a Penguins team hat on, Riley left the loft, headed across town for the library and a day of research.
I cannot pretend
That everything makes sense.
But does it really matter now
If I do not know how
To figure this thing out?
Faith makes everybody scared.
It's the unknown, the don't-know
That keeps me hangin' on...
?Unknown? ~ Lifehouse
Riley woke before dawn, slowly surfacing from the depths of a dream that she'd much rather have finished dreaming. She opened her eyes, blinking blearily into the semi-gloom of her loft. She could feel the cold of the Rhydin winter morning pressing down on her, encouraging her to stay in the warmth of her bed. With Herculean effort, though, she dragged her sleepy body from between the sheets and blankets and padded, bare foot and dressed in Andy's away jersey and black boy shorts, into the kitchen. Sleepy, slightly cold-numb fingers fumbled with coffee filters, bean grinder and finally the coffee maker itself and she took a lean against the counter, waiting with a true caffeine junkie's dry-mouth anticipation for that first cup of black, Heavenly manna.
Taking her mug, this one sporting a smiley face with a bullet hole in the forehead, to the table, she slumped down in a chair, brain still somewhere in the dream she'd been having just before waking. It had been about Stewart McCall, the Australian psychology professor she'd had during her last year at Boston University. She'd been failing the class, mostly due to the fact that he gave pop quizzes on the Fridays she drove down to Pittsburgh when the Penguins were playing at home. Desperate to keep her perfect grade point average and the full-ride offer from Boston College law school, Riley had gone to Professor McCall and asked what she could do to improve her grade.
In retrospect, of course, when he'd told her exactly what she could do to earn a solid A, she should have told him to die in a fire, but she'd been desperate. Funny though, in the dream she'd just had, she had had the strange feeling that someone had been standing in the shadows of the professor's bedroom, watching as Riley earned her A. A smirk curled her lips then, as it dawned on her who'd been watching. ?Lani,? she whispered and shook her head, chuckling. The presence of the succulent succubus in Riley's dreamscape would certainly explain the vividness of an otherwise forgettable encounter with a pasty, paunchy middle-aged Aussie.
A thud against the front door of the loft brought her back to the present and she rose from the table, still cradling the cup of coffee in one hand. Unlocking the deadbolts and the security chain, she slowly opened the door and found the first edition of her new subscription to the RhyDin Post laying on the welcome mat. She grabbed it up, relocked most of the deadbolts and returned to the table. Settling down once more, one hand still wrapped around her coffee, she scanned the paper. Mass murders down at the docks, dueling news, an article mentioning Reap and Harris that made her smile just a little, and finally, the good stuff ? the advertisements and classifieds.
Half an hour and two cups of coffee later, she had finished with the paper and confirmed her suspicions. Time to began her day in earnest. Shedding Andy's jersey for black yoga pants and a lavender-coloured sports bra, she did her daily meditation and yoga. Despite not needing the physical benefits of the exercise any more ? her Cat took care of those needs ? she still needed the peace lent to her by the meditation and the asanas.
After yoga, she showered and then gave serious consideration to her wardrobe. She'd be spending the day in the library and town hall ? if such a thing existed in this god-forsaken, a*s-end of the Universe ? so comfort was uppermost in her mind. Levis, a yellow t-shirt that said ?I only date Pittsburgh Penguins fans? and black Chuck Taylors were selected and she dressed quickly. Slipping into her father's vintage leather motorcycle jacket and putting a Penguins team hat on, Riley left the loft, headed across town for the library and a day of research.