She woke up early on Sunday morning, almost gagging, to the taste of cheap beer and lime in her throat. Her clothes were in various stages of disarray, some of them hanging precariously on her company from the night prior. Kyle Jr. slept soundly, his sweaty chest heaving in and out. She followed the rhythm of his breathing as she waited for her contacts to moisten and adjust and her vision to focus.

Well, she thought smugly, I sure had a time last night.

She stared at her wall and sighed. Times like this, she wished there was a window so she’d have something to look at. Kyle rustled the sheets clumsily as he began to wake. She stared at him blandly; remembering their antics, knowing it probably wouldn’t cross her thoughts again.

With impatience, she reached for the shelf over his head and grabbed the cigar box. By first puff, he was gathering the last of his clothes and heading out of her room. She exhaled and vaguely wondered if her roommate was up yet.

Hours later, she began her slow walk along the desolate campus. Everyone else was sleeping off the escapism of the past two nights and she longed to be back in bed as well, instead of out here in this Gothic wonderland of dead trees and black iron bars against old white snow.

She arrived at the coffee shop and took special care to wipe her smart Black boots dry on the mat. They were an expensive gift from her mother, the only thing that made her feel like she belonged in this place, and she wanted to make them last as long as possible. The overhead bell rang as she walked in and she cringed in annoyance as she did a quick scan.

She felt him before her eyes saw. She felt his eyes pierce through her as if he could reach through time and drag her back with him.

What does he want? Why is he here? What do I care? I’m better, I’m better, and I’m better…

She could barely look at him, could not wade past the ten years that stood between them, past the anger that pulled her backward and settled deep in her throat.

Her father rose from his chair with a smile as she stood in front of the door. His smile dripped with undeserved sincerity and good intentions; with questions that had gone unasked for too long.

She lightly fingered the cigarettes in her coat pocket, feeling the need curdle in between her fear.

Finally, as this stranger stood waiting for her to join him, she turned away and walked out of the shop. By the time the overhead bell had stopped ringing, she was ankle-deep in brown-speckled New England snow, a small black figure encrusted in a sea of gray.