On the Nature of Daylight

Chapter Two

Katherine does not, at this distressing time of her life, have any friends.

This is actually pretty understandable, in her own, quite logical opinion. After all, she's only been here for four days. She has no job. She's only left her apartment three times this week. God, she doesn't even own a coffee maker - well evidenced by the nasty but necessary cup of instant that she's clutching as she puts away groceries in the kitchen.

The only thing she does have is a pounding headache. Does that count as a companion? It ought to, Katherine thinks, given the rather impressive constancy of it.

This isn't to say that she has no friends at all. She has a few, but they're all back home in South Dakota, and none of them have made much of an effort to contact her. This is also understandable. They're all adults, and lead very busy adult lives.

Well. Save for herself, it would seem.

It is at this precise moment that the Universe decides to bestow the smallest of blessings upon her in the form of a knock on her apartment door - which, it turns out, is the arrival of her equipment.

There are a few boxes of it, and after thanking the delivery guy profusely, she drags them all inside. They make the room look even smaller, sitting on the hardwood floor, but Katherine can't bring herself to care. Just looking at all of it makes her heart feel lighter, makes some semblance of hope rise in her chest.

As long as she's got her tech, she's safe. As long as she's got her tech, she's got a way to make ends meet, to express herself, and a world to get lost in when the real one is too cruel.

There's a small space on the right side of the bed where she's set up a little desk she'd purchased from Gotham's local IKEA the day before. It's smaller than she'd like - especially given the price - but sturdy, and after an hour or so, she's managed to unpack all she needs to complete her setup.

It's crammed - but it will do. It will have to do .

Filled with a sense of renewed energy, she finds herself motivated enough to clean up the rest of her apartment, getting things organized. She even throws open the curtains, letting the light, however dim, shine in.

When she's finished, she sits down at her desk, feeling truly comfortable for the first time in weeks. For a moment, she simply pauses - closes her eyes and lets the good feelings wash over her. They've become increasingly rare, and she likes to enjoy them while they last.

After a minute or so, she pulls herself back down. She opens her laptop, pulls up her old advertisements for her services, and gets to work.

~

Part of Katherine's advertising strategy includes actual fliers. She'd looked up the city rules the night before, and Gotham is pretty liberal when it comes to such regulations. Katherine imagines the law enforcement here has more important things to worry about.

In all honesty, she's glad to get out of her apartment. Being a shut-in can be great fun, but after a certain amount of time, it transforms into something a bit more pathetic. Putting on one of her more decent outfits, she grabs her fliers, puts them inside a cloth bag and sets out into the city.

The time is about five o'clock, and the afternoon sun is shimmering in the October afternoon sky, headed oh so slowly to its resting place in the west. Katherine makes her way down the streets of the East End, putting up her fliers wherever allowed. It's much less intimidating in the daylight, but no less depressing; the infrastructure here is clearly not even vaguely taken care of, and the folks who walk beside her are quieter than those in the city's center, where Katherine has been doing a lot of her shopping. Their eyes are downcast, at odds with their quick paces as they hurry towards work.