by Christy Shorey and you

ARCHIVE: NOV. 1 edited for spelling and grammar

3182 words

Dresden hit the snooze button on his alarm clock, and squinted his eyes against the sunlight that somehow managed to filter through his blinds to leave a strip across his eyes. He peeled open one brown eye to look at the time, then bolted upright in bed. He was going to be late again.

He scrambled through his closet to find an outfit that was not too dirty, and had a nagging feeling that he had been having an intense dream moments before, though he could not recall any of the dream. Growing up he had always had action filled dreams, and regaled his little sister and mother with tales of the events that happened on the other side of sleep. His mom would sigh and tell him he had an over-active imagination, but his sister would beg for more.

Pulling a button up shirt over his head, still buttoned from when he wore it the last time, he shook off the feeling of missing his dreams, of missing telling Delonda about his nighttime quests, he was going to be later than his students today if he didn't hurry. It was bad enough when he didn't get there for the morning staff meeting, but to have students show up before him was a terrible no-no.

Throwing clothes out of his closet into his small room, he failed to find any shoes. He grabbed a tie from the doorknob, and rushed out into the house, almost colliding with Lional. The larger man looked down at him with a piercing glare, and a freshly trimmed mustache. "Sorry Lional, have you seen my shoes?"

"No, ask Raul." Lional said, pushing his way past Dresden and heading towards his room. Dresden sighed, and went to the kitchen. Guido was peeling potatoes for a breakfast scramble. Dresden didn't mind that his roommate did this shirtless, but the sight of the other man's tattoos always disturbed him.

Giving a small cough to gather his courage, Dresden said, "Uh, Guido, have you seen my shoes?"

Guido nodded, but didn't say anything; the sound of the knife going shick-shick over the potato filled the kitchen for several moments while Dresden gathered up another round of courage. "Can you tell me where?"

"Sold 'em," Guido said with a shrug that sent the eagle on his back twitching. Dresden never dared to say, but rather than simulating the motion of flight like Guido had intended, the action seemed to send the eagle into spasms.

"Which pair? The sneakers or the dress shoes?" Dresden asked, dread filling the pit of his stomach. The dress shoes would probably get more, and he would be frowned upon for wearing sneakers to work on top of already being late. He knew better than to ask *why* Guido had sold the shoes.

"Both," Guido said, turning to look at Dresden. "Hope that's not a problem?"

"Urm, well, no." Dresden said, hiding the panic he felt at his situation. "I'll be fine." He knew that the principal and superintendent were having a meeting that day, but he wasn't about to stake his life on an argument over shoes with a half-naked tattooed man wielding a potato peeler, or to argue that said "potato peeler" was more appropriate to find in a knife fight than in a kitchen.

Dresden rushed out of the kitchen, and knocked on Raul's door. The door swung open silently, the only non-squeaky door in the house. Raul looked up at Dresden. "I don't have any shoes to wear," Dresden said, trying to not sound pathetic. Raul looked him over, then waved that he should follow.

Raul lead the way back into Dresden's own room, and crouched down in front of the pile of clothes covering the closet floor. Gently moving aside a shirt and a pair of jeans, Raul uncovered a pair of shoes, Dresden's last, pointed at them, then walked away.

Dresden moaned, and rolled his eyes. Why today of all days? The superintendent was going to be there, and he would be stuck wearing the shoes that Delonda had given him as a gag on his last Christmas at home. A glance at the clock put speed back in him, and Dresden pulled on the shoes, trying to ignore the floppy ears and cute dog faces that stared back up at him. This was not going to be a good day.

****

Margot stared at her computer screen, blinking at the message framed in the supposedly soothing blue of the automatic electronic stationary. The words framed in the message were exactly the opposite of soothing.

She could tell that the sender, the secretary of the small company she had been working with, was trying to be as polite as she could, to soften the blow as it were, but that only seemed to make it worse.

All the time she had put into her last project had just been effectively flushed down the drain, as the letter told her, the start-up company who had contacted her months before had found someone else to provide the same program she had created for them. The secretary cushioned it, saying they knew that Margot was still a college student, and that she should be spending her time working on completing her degree instead of having to worry about their little project. But she could tell her boss had probably not been as nice about it. If not for Angel, the secretary, she probably would have gotten a note that said, "Your performance has been merely satisfactory. Please find enclosed notification of your immediate termination from this project. The reaper will arrive in thirteen hours. Good luck."

Looking back over Angel's note, Margot could hear Angel's boss, whom she'd spoken to on numerous occasions, saying that exact phrase in her head, in a semi-jovial tone. The words cut to the bone, and Margot shivered.

Fine, she could deal. This might be the end of an era, though. The arrival of the reaper on her programming career, at least from an official point of view. She pulled her folder of resumes, and found the one that had "Computer Programmer" as the most recent job position. She shuffled it to the bottom of the pile, putting the one that had the more non-committal "College Student" at the top.

It was time to go job-hunting again, she thought with a sigh, and started to make copies of her less threatening resume. It had gotten her many good jobs, ones that she otherwise appeared over qualified for.

With a stack of freshly copied resumes in her hand, she turned to face the mirror. Looking over her current appearance, she found she couldn't really complain. She had complained loud and long in the past, to no avail. Her hair was frizzier than she could manage, with clips to hold the locks from her eyes, and if she had her druthers, she'd do something about the size of her chest, but what woman wouldn't? After considerable time, however, she had managed to come to terms with her appearance, and what she could and couldn't change. Making the adjustments she could, she managed to get the best look she had yet.

Tucking in the blouse she had chosen, then untucking it again, she slipped on her comfortable shoes. If her feet hurt, she never did well on the job hunt.

"Kyle, I'm going out to look for a job, come tell me how I look."

Margot waited in the living room with rapidly dwindling patience. She called out again, but got no reply. Finally she set off to Kyle's room. The room was sparse and tidy, with a propped open comic book the only "mess" in the room, but Kyle was no where to be seen. Margot sighed. It looked like it was time to have another discussion with Kyle about letting her know when he was leaving the house. The arrangement they had worked out for the most part, and mostly benefited from Kyle's less than average mind, but at times that attribute had worked against their relationship. Still, he was a good-looking young man, and she took some solace in that.

Stretching her arms, and trying to loosen her shoulders, Margot went through the mental list of who she was going to see, what jobs she had seen in the online listing that had looked promising.   She would start with the university secretary position, an unglamorous job that might suit her needs, then go to the doctor's office which was seeking a receptionist. She found that she managed better on her second inquiry, the first giving her a chance to warm up her skills. It had been ages since she had to go for a job interview, taking odd programming jobs as they came had sustained her and Kyle for the past two years, but it was time to look towards the future.

Fixing her blouse one last time, she scribbled out a note for Kyle, to let him know where she was, and that whenever he returned that he should go to the store for dinner. Just to be on the safe side, she added an extra line telling him to please make the dinner, and he could eat his own portion, but if he could, please save the second portion for her.

Finally convinced thing were in order, Margot went out to tackle the world, willing herself to believe it would be a good day.

****

Lacey looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling. Even though daylight was streaming into her room, and the effect of the stars was nowhere near as amazing as the nighttime version, she still liked looking at them. They fascinated her, as she wondered how, exactly, they were made to glow.

Stretching the length of her bed, she counted the stars absently while thinking about what she would wear. Picturing the day ahead, she tried to figure out where she would be, what errand she would have to run, and who she was likely to see. Her day plotted, she decided on a pair of tight, non-patterned jeans, and a simple white top. She finished off the outfit with her black doc martins, and a pair of plaid button earrings. She looked herself over in the mirror, and changed her earrings to a pair of dangles.

Gathering her purse, she headed out to the bus shelter two blocks down from her place. When the 64 showed up ten minutes late, she took her time getting on. She was just about to sit in her normal seat, the one directly behind the driver, when she heard a voice from further back in the bus. "Lacey? Is that you? God, it's been years."

Lacey turned and with mild panic saw one of her high school class mates scooting over to the window seat, and beckoning Lacey to join her. Lacey hesitated, looked one last time at the seat behind the driver, then headed back to talk to her former classmate.

"Wow, Lacey, what have you been up to? You look great, I love the green, it really works for you."

Lacey sat down next to her former classmate, looking over her attire. Barbara was dressed in a sensible pin-stripe suit, and low heels. "You look nice Barb, heading to work?"

"Yeah, car broke down this morning, flat tire with no time to fix it. I didn't realize you were still in town. Is this a regular trip for you, I mean, are you a bus commuter?"

Lacey shook her head. "No, my husband took his car into the shop yesterday, and needed mine to get to work. I'm on a bus route, he isn't."

Barbara nodded. "That's great. I never had time to get married, but if you're doing that and working, more power to you. Must be a good job if they let you get by with that hair, better than mine, anyway. I can't even wear earrings."

"Well, I'm a beautician, actually, so it's kind of encouraged for us to make ourselves stand out."

"Really, that's great. Are you downtown, then? I go to the hairdresser nearest my house, least bother and all, but if you're down this way, then maybe I could stop in some time."

"Alas, I actually have to take another two busses from here to get to where I work. Not the most convenient arrangement, but the place I have is great, so I don't really complain."

"Oh, sure. That's too bad though. Do you have a card? I still might be able to make it on weekends."

Lacey reached for her bag, then paused. "Actually, I don't work weekends. I could still give you a card. If you ask for Gary, he's the one that did my color, and he'd take care of you."

"Oh, well, never mind then. I'm glad to see you are doing well, though. We'll have to catch up some time. Oh, I think this is my stop" Barbara said, and reached out to press the "request stop" strip.

Lacey stood up to let Barbara by. "It was good to see you again," she said, and watched the other woman exit the bus. Lacey gave a sigh, then went back to the front of the bus.

Two stops later the old woman who. Typically sat next to her made her way on the bus. Once she was settled, she turned to Lacey with a smile. "Good to see you again today, dear. How are those lovely kitties you work with doing? Good, I hope."

Lacey smiled. "Yes, they're doing well, though that one, Tigger, is still having problems with his leg."

"That's too bad, dear. But I'm sure he'll heal soon. With a vet as good as you, he surely is in good hands."

Lacey smiled. "Thank you, that's kind of you to say." The woman continued on asking about the various cats, and taking about her own dears, her roses, while Lacey watched the scenery passing. She was still a little off kilter from the unexpected reunion with her schoolmate. Trying her best to focus on what the old woman next to her was saying, Lacey had a feeling that today wasn't going to be a good day.

*****

Logan opened his eyes and pondered the dream. There were many creatures chasing the main character who at times changed from being in the first person to the third. When examined closer, the creatures were dark men, or women, in cowls black as the night sky. The whites of their eyes shone through in the darkness like stars in a night sky. The other thing that was of note was their shoes; they were all wearing silly slippers.

Logan sighed, nothing useful here, either. Getting up, he opened the mini-fridge to exam its contents. His stomach rumbled, and he took out a plate with a half-eaten slice of cheesecake. A brief glance showed no eating utensils in the immediate area. Brushing his fingers together, he picked up the cold slice, and started breakfast. When he finished, he dusted the crumbs from the deep green sheets back onto the plate, and put it, empty, back into the fridge, looking for something to wash down the stickiness that filled his throat that reminded him why he had stopped eating the slice of cheesecake in the first place. All he found was a flat soda, so he went and tipped his head under the faucet to take a few gulps of tap water.

He left the water running, and splashed a few handfuls on his face, then ran his hands through his unruly hair. For some reason it always seemed to be messier after more intense dreams, and while this last one was far from helpful, it had been chalk-full of emotion.

With a sigh Logan finally faced his reflection. He needed to shave soon. It was frustrating. He was never able to grow a full beard, just this annoying fuzz that people tended to scoff at. He wasn't sure what he had done to be cursed with a five o-clock shadow, but he wished he could find some sort of remedy.

Once he was done shaving, he looked around his loft. Gathering up the sheets and pulling the towels from the towel bars, he headed down to the lower level, and dropped them in the washing machine. Once that was started, he headed back to his closet.

He selected a silk shirt, but when he put it on realized there was some sort of food stain he had not seen before. Pulling it off, he finally settled on a black polo. While he waited for the washer to finish, he sat on his bed, trying to not think about the past. In trying to put it from his mind, he brought forth fresh memories of his past lives.   He gave a small shout, and flopped back on the bed. These past lives seemed to constantly plague him. When he tried to not think about them, they insinuated themselves into his brain. When he tried to face them, using some of his precious savings on a psychiatrist, rather than the at-home-maid service which he desperately wanted, he ended up annoying the professional into asking him to please not come back, suggesting his time might be better spent in the company of a psychic who would buy the nonsense about past lives.

They most annoying thing were the vagaries that these memories brought. Sometimes after being lost in thought with these memories, he was disoriented about what his current life was, who he was now, even what gender. But when he tried to pinpoint details which might tell him *who* he had been, or believed he had been, the memories would flit away as quick as a hummingbirds heartbeat.

He had fallen back asleep, without dreams, when his washing machine bleeped, letting him know the cycle was done. Rubbing his eyes, Logan was surprised at the absence of a ring. Seconds flitted by, and he remembered the current life, realized that the sound that had woken him was in fact his laundry, and went to put the linens in the dryer.

With that set, he found his leather briefcase, double checked the pens in them, and looked one last time at his reflection in the toaster. He sighed as he met his reflections eyes. They were red, and looking back accusingly at him. He shook his head, and the normal blue eyes he had grown used to looked back at him. As he headed out he realized he had forgotten his keys. Going back in to fetch them, another past-life memory overwhelmed him, and he was confused by the briefcase in his hands, where was his purse. Her purse.

No, the brief case was right. Scooping up the keys, Logan headed out, and locked the door behind him. The day had not started out on a good foot, and he could only hope it would get better, though he knew such hopes were usually futile.