A Day at a Time

config.style.backdrop: "black" config.style.page.font: "Herculanum/Constantia/Georgia/serif 36" config.style.page.color: "white" config.style.page.link.color: "red" -- I wake up surrounded by inky darkness, wide-eyed and afraid. The cold air around me feels like a vice clamping down on my throat. I can hear someone's voice echoing around me, but it sounds like they're below water...or maybe they're above water and I'm the one drowning. I have no way of knowing. I can feel something pull at me and after a moment, I feel myself rise, higher and higher. Suddenly, I find myself floating in front of a frail-looking, old man. The room now feels unbearably hot and I feel like I'm about to be cooked alive. I try to move, but I feel myself transfixed on this one spot, unable to go anywhere. I recognize this room, but it doesn't feel familiar to me at all...like something sinister has taken over. I stare down at the old man, who is surrounded by a large ritual circle, strange symbols and melted candles. His face is illuminated by red, omnimous light. "Great, shadowed fiend of Hell," he speaks to me, his voice now clearer to me than before, "I've summoned you here to be my servant in the mortal realm, *forever*. Now what, my infernal servant, would you like in return for your humble service?" **"Your soul,"** I hear the words come from me, though my mouth doesn't move. My voice sounds completely alien to me, like a volcano rumbling from deep within. In fact...I don't have a mouth. My body feels more like gas or smoke than anything resembling an actual body. My eyes - my five, red, glowing eyes - are the things shining down on this man's face. He backs away from me, clearly terrified of me and my answer. As he does, part of the ritual circle rubs away under his shoes. The bonds that held me inside this circle are not broken. The old man's face twists into a look of abject horror, as he, too, has just realize what happened. I feel a sharp, toothy grin that wasn't there before materialize on my face. - [[Chapter I]]

config.style.backdrop: "orange-2" config.style.page.font: "Herculanum/Constantia/Georgia/serif 36" config.style.page.color: "white" config.style.page.link.color: "white" coffee: false work: false parentTeacherConference: false talkToSophie: false talkToKaitlyn: false securityCameras: false babysitter: false -- I wake up again with a jolt, but this time, I know I'm actually awake. I look around me, rubbing my tired, sleep-crusted eyes. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be: in my own home, in my own room, snug in my own bed. I also look towards my calendar for today: July 10th, 2021. Then I look over towards my alarm clock...*8:30 am.* *Crap, I'm thirty minutes late for work!* I bolt out of bed like a bat out of hell, rushing towards my dresser. I fling one of the drawers open, only to discover that I have no clothes in there whatsoever. I cast my gaze shamefully to the floor, where many of my clothes inevitably end up. I parse through them all carefully, sniffing each individual garment. Anything that doesn't smell like I've worn them for about a week straight gets immediately put on my body: a plain, black t-shirt, some dark blue skinny jeans, some pink socks and a pleather jacket. I need to get to work, then I need to get to a parent-teacher conference for Sophie today...good thing, I've already screwed up the first thing. *Coffee...I need [[coffee]].* - [[Prologue]]

I practically slam open my door, ready to simply grab my [[bag]] and go (with no coffee, as much as my body needs it right now). I glance at the kitchen counter, not really paying too much attention. Then I do a double-take when I actually see what's on the counter: *there's already hot coffee for me.* I smile wide as I go over towards it. I think for a moment that maybe Sophie was the one who prepared it for me, but she's usually dead asleep on the weekends. It wouldn't make sense for her to do that. At the moment, though, I'm not too concerned with that...I'm more concerned with getting that sweet, sweet nectar of awakeness into me. [if coffee === false] {reveal link: 'I drink my coffee.', passage: 'coffee II'} [continued] - [[Chapter I]]

coffee: true -- I take a sip of coffee. It practically scalds my tongue, but it's brewed to just my liking: sweetened with a one-third cup of half-and-half. It tastes like perfection.

I speed-walk towards my black, leather tote bag. I've had this thing for years, even before I was pregnant with Sophie. It's been a stalwart companion for me, even then, and I forsee it being one for many more years. I unzip the bag and take a look inside, just to make sure everything is in its proper place. Inside, I see my [[wallet]], my [[phone]], my [[gameboy]] and my [[keys]]. After I've checked that everything is in order, I take a sticky note and write down a message for Sophie: *Hey Honey,* *I'm going to be at work now, as per usual. kaitlyn and her daughter will probably be home today, so you can stay over there while I'm working. Make sure you do your homework done and wash the dishes before I get home, okay?* *Love,* *Mom* Once that's done, I finally head out the door, get in my Toyota Camry and head off to [[work]] for the day. - [[coffee]]

I take out your wallet and open it up. Inside are my driver's liscence, my social security number and my I.D., which reads: *Lorraine Davies* *480 OAK GROVE AVE* *Dreary, ME, 04400* *SEX F HGT 5'2"* *WGT 132 LBS. EYES BLUE* *HAIR RED* I always hated my full name. It's why I almost exclusively go by Lorrie. I sigh and put my wallet back in the [[bag]].

I pick up my phone and inspect it for a moment. It's an old iPhone I got back in 2010. It's got a clear, plastic case and the screen has a small, but negligable crack along the front of it. I don't really use it for much, besides keeping in contact with Sophie. After a moment, I put the phone back into my [[bag]].

I pick up my gameboy to look at it fondly. My dad had this as a kid and would let me play on it when I was a kid. When he died, I was the one that received it and now I sometimes let Sophie play with it, too. It's got a lot of games on it, including Donkey Kong, Castlevania II, a few Mega Man games, Pac Man, Streetfighter II, and Tetris. It's just plain gray, with some colorful buttons. Nothing fancy. I put it back in my [[bag]].

You pick up the keys and inspect them. They're just regular car keys, with a kitschy flamingo keychain that you got while on vacation with Sophie hanging from them. You put your keys back in your [[bag]].

work: true -- I drive, perhaps a little bit over the speed limit, into the parking lot of the restaurant I work at, The Melting Pot. I slam the door of my car shut as I sprint towards the entrance of the restaurant. When I run in, my manager, Doyle, glares at me from behind the counter. "Where the hell were you, Lorrie," he asks me in a pointed tone, "I've been waiting for you for half a hour now." I stop in front of him, breathing heavily from rushing all morning. "I'm sorry, Doyle," I say, motioning outside, "Sophie threw up this morning and I had to take care of that." A complete, bold-faced lie, but I'm not about to tell him that I overslept because I had a dream I was a demon being summoned by an old man. Doyle gives an exasperated, but understanding sigh. "Listen," he says, "I'll cut you some slack for now, since this is a first-time offense, but *please* don't make this a habit, Lorrie, okay?" I nod quickly. "Yeah, I won't, I promise," I say before disappearing into the back with the other waitors and clocking in for the day. [if coffee === true] The rest of the day goes pretty okay, despite being a little busy. Other than the occasional Karen or just generally unpleasant customer, the coffee certainly makes the day go by way more pleasantly that it would've without. At the very least, I have the energy to keep up with the workload. [else] The rest of the day isn't much better, especially since we're busier than usual. I'm tired, cranky and I can barely keep up with the workload today. The customers today aren't much better, either, with one Karen *insisting* that I give her diet water, instead of regular water...the gall of some people, I swear. [continued] After a hard, ten-hour day, I say my usual 'see ya's to my coworkers and clock out for the day. After that, I get in the car and begin to drive to Oak Grove Elementary School for the [[parent-teacher conference]]. - [[bag]]

parentTeacherConference: true -- I got to the school at about 6:30 at night, about thirty minutes ahead of schedule. I give a big sigh before getting out of the car and walking calmly towards the front of the school. The school was built about seventy years ago. Both my dad and I went to this school before Sophie did. After I graduated, there was a *huge* fire that took half the school building during summer vacation. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but they had to remodel the entire place before they could reopen it for spring. I can still see char marks on part of the brick walls from where I'm walking. I open one of the double doors and head straight towards the administrative office. There's an older lady there sitting in front of an old, mac computer, with a nice, floral-print dress and some beads hanging off her chunky reading glasses. This is Mrs. Langeley, the principal's assitant. She looks up at me with kind eyes and smiles. "Hello, Lorrie," Mrs. Langeley says to me in a cheery tone, "You're here for your meeting, right, dear?" I smile and nod. "Yeah, that'd be it for me," I reply, sitting down next to the conference room door. Mrs. Langeley nods understandingly while tapping aggressively on the keyboard. "Well, you're early, in any case," she replies back, "Would you like me to get you a drink, dear?" I shake my head. "No thanks," I tell her, "I'll just wait until Sophie's teachers get here." I offer her one last smile before taking out my gameboy and starting up Donkey Kong. Mrs. Langeley takes off her glasses and squints at my gameboy before smiling again. About twenty minutes later, Mr. Bart, Sophie's gym teacher, walks into the room with a swagger. Anytime I've ever seen him, he's wearing that same, blue track suit and has a thick mustache that he's worn for years. He's nice enough, but he could come across as a little weird sometimes. He sees me and gives me a pleasant-enough smile. "Ah, Lorrie," he greets me non-chalantly, "Great to see you again. How's Sophie? She been sleeping good?" I blink for a few moments, a little caught off-guard and weirded out by the second question. "She's...been sleeping fine, I guess," I say in a questioning tone and Mr. Bart laughs awkwardly. "Sorry, I...realize that's a bit of a strange question," he says, trying to excuse himself, "I just noticed she was a little tired on Friday, y'know." I nod in understanding, even though I'm still a little weirded out. "Y-Yeah, I understand," I reply, "Um...shall we?" I gesture towards the meeting room. He nods and walks forward. "Ah, yes, let's go," he says before he and I disappear behind the doors of the [[conference room]]. - [[work]]

I sat down in the conference room on the farthest end of the long table, while Mr. Bart sat across from me. The rest of Sophie's teachers file in and take their respective seats before the meeting officially begins. When it finally commences, I listen to each of them attentively. Over the course of the meeting, they all have generally nice, encouraging things to say about Sophie, even if a few of them noted that her behavior was a little strange lately. "Strange?" I ask with concern in my voice. Sofie's English teacher, Ms. Riley, a woman in a plaid, brown pant suit and with half-moon glasses hanging off her nose, answers me. "Well," Ms. Riley begins, "Her grades in my class have taken a drop, as of late...and she gets very irritable whenever anyone mentions gym class or Mr. Bart to her, in any capacity." My eyes narrow as they flick between her and Mr. Bart, whom sits up in his chair, as if to say something in his defense. "Well, I mean, gym class isn't for everyone, I suppose," says Mr. Bart, in a tone of voice that sounds slgihtly *too* condescending for my liking, "I'll try and talk to her, one-on-one, about it, if her problems start to get worse-" I hold up a hand to keep him from going. "*I'll* be the one to talk to her," I say confidently, "Though I appreciate your...*concern*, Mr. Bart." Mr. Bart laughs awkwardly again and nods. "Yes, well...you are her *mother*, after all," says Mr. Bart back to me, "It's only right that *you* are the one to do it." "Indeed," I say curtly before turning to the rest of Sophie's teachers, "Will that be all tonight?" Mr. Dyer, Sophie's computer teacher, a big, burly man with silver patches in his hair and wearing a plain, blue shirt with some blue jeans, nodded in response. "I mean, I'd say so," says Mr. Dyer, "I think we've covered all our bases." I nod in agreement. "So it's done," I say before getting up from the table, "I think I'll be heading home now." All the teachers nod in response and I leave the room before anyone can rope me into an after-meeting conversation. As I'm heading back to the car, I notice Mr. Bart coming out of the building, too, towards a bright blue, 1992 Honda Civic. I only make a mental note of the car, because it was the type of car my dad used to drive, but otherwise don't think much of it. Once I'm in the car, I give a huge, long sigh. Not only am I tired as hell, but I'm still thinking about the comments Mr. Bart made earlier. *He's probably just an awkward man, but still...* I sit up before turning on the car and finally driving [[home]]. Maybe I'll be able to talk to Sophie about him. - [[parent-teacher conference]]

It's almost 7:00 pm by the time I get home. I throw my bag over my shoulder and shut the door to the car, locking it before I go inside. As I slip through the front door, I'm greeted by the sight of Sophie sitting on the couch, drawing on her iPad. I smile as I pass her to go towards the kitchen counter. "Hi sweetie," I say in a soft voice, "Did you do your homework today?" "Yeah," Sofie says, not looking up at me, but continuing to draw on her iPad. I sigh as I put my bag on the counter. "Did you wash the dishes, too," I ask, now looking at the back of her little, carrot-top head. "Yeah," she says again, still not looking at me. I look over towards the kitchen sink and find that the dishes are not, in fact, washed. I give another sigh, this time of annoyance, as I stare at her. "Did you commit genocide against the French," I ask sarcastically. "Yeah," she answers before her head pops up and she finally looks back at me with wide eyes, "Wait, no! I *promise* I did my homework today!" "But you didn't wash the dishes," I say, pointing towards the sink full of dishes and glasses, "Come on, honey...let's do the dishes. You can draw later." Sophie sighs, but saves the drawing she's working on and comes towards me. "Okay," she says quietly, with her head hanging down, and reaches towards the sink to get started. "I want you to know that this isn't a punishment, okay?" I say to her reassuringly, as I watch her washing the glasses first, "It's not fun, but you'll thank me later once you live on your own...*trust me*." Sophie looks up at me again. "Okay," she says again, but this time with a smile on her face.