We Lucky Few

Of outcasts, books, and pizza

*Picture of Calliope on top.*

I woke up to the blaring alarm of my cellphone.

Too loud, too fucking loud.

With a wince, I grabbed my phone and sat up. I shut the alarm off and groaned, kneading my sore neck. I'd fallen asleep on the damn couch, so I'd be feeling the soreness all day. I rubbed my hands over my face and went to make coffee. I inhaled the smell of freshly ground coffee beans that filled the apartment deeply, before I went to take a shower. When I came back into the living room, I opened a window and rejoiced at the slightly fresh breeze. Maybe today wouldn't be so hot.

I drank my coffee with eagerness, black, no milk, no sugar, only the pure taste of the coffee bean. A happy sigh sounded through the kitchen. At eight, I left my apartment for work. I never minded working on Saturdays. The roads were quieter, there was less traffic, and the city always seemed still half asleep when I left. I hopped down the steps of my apartment building and walked into the sun. My eyes fell on Calliope, who was getting ready to mount her bike, a ridiculously broad, sleek black machine of death. My eyes widened in surprise. I'd never have taken her for an early bird. She lifted her helmet up and just as she was about to slip it over her head, she noticed me staring at her. She smiled a little and waved. I waved back.

"Nice bike!"

Did I just say that?

Calliope's eyes lit up ever so slightly with something akin to pride."Thank you. It's a Triumph Rocket III Roadster, 2.3 liters, three cylinders. I got it off an older guy and made a pretty good deal."

"Um... uhum. Cool." As if I understood a single thing of what that girl had just said.

She grinned knowingly. "See ya around, James."

She pulled the helmet down and mounted the bike. It looked massive underneath her as it roared to life. I waved at her as she pulled over and drove away. I got the feeling not much could faze that girl. Still, her sense of danger must have suffered severe impairment. I considered everyone willfully riding a bike in American traffic a tad bit crazy. And crazy was not something I did.

I decided to walk to work. It was only a thirty-minute walk and I still had plenty of time before my shift started at 9:30. I liked to be early. Nothing stressed me more than when I was running late. I crossed the street to the café and got myself a coffee to go. The weather was nice, the sun was bright and the breeze was fresh. Perfect day.

Ha.That does not exist.

The day passed in a blur. I could so thoroughly lose myself in my work, in the complexity of it, the musing, the hunt for the truth. Thank God I hadn't listened to dear old dad, who'd wanted me to major in political science or law. I made a face.

I could never go into politics. Eurgh.

No, I liked the thrill of discovery, and I could be relentless in finding answers. I could be adamant in figuring things out, and I hated when something didn't make sense, when something was not how it should be or how logic meant it to be.

On my way home, I grabbed a large pizza.

Be nice to have it all to myself. No need to share. Not anymore.

The smell wafting up at me made my mouth water and I cursed myself for walking to work. I could have been home in two minutes if I'd taken the car. When I finally got home fifteen minutes later, I saw that Calliope's bike sat in her allotted spot. I rushed up the stairs and flopped down on the couch, digging into the pizza with a satisfied groan.

God, is there anything better in this world than pizza? Yes. Coffee.

I chuckled and leaned forwards to fumble through the stack of newspapers and magazines sitting on the table in front of the couch in neat stacks.