I gazed at the little upside-down reptile napping so comfortably on his artificially sunny rock, like he couldn’t ask for more in his content little life. I envied him. He got to live in a clear box, eat, poop, sleep, and look adorable, and no one expected any more out of him. All he had to do was look cute, and people loved him and adored him. He didn’t even have to try.

I let out a breath and rolled onto my stomach, resting my head on my hands, glaring at the innocent creature.

“Hey,” I asked Sarah who was sitting at the coffee table in her and Jordan’s apartment, working diligently on her senior project. “What kind of lizard is Sink again? Blue-footed skunk or something?”

“Ha ha. No,” Sarah said, smiling without breaking eye contact from her computer screen. “It’s blue-tongued skink.”

“He looks so happy right now.” I swung my feet through the air above me.

Sarah finally glanced away from the laptop, but only to look at some notes she had sitting beside her. “Well, he should. I just fed him before you got here, and he’s in his favorite napping spot.”

“Oh, to be a pet lizard, free from the plagues and trials of the human consciousness for which we are doomed to roam, always striving but never satisfied.”

She stopped typing to give me a dubious look. “Cool it Plato. He’s just a lizard. Let him live his life.”

“Pfft. Yeah, whatever.” I cupped a hand around my mouth and whispered to the scaly fellow, “You wanna trade?” I even threw in a seductive wink, but none of his reptilian features even flinched. With a “humph” I rolled over onto my back. Putting my hands behind my head, I studied the rough ceiling. “Did you know Ms. Lilain chewed me out again?”

“Again?” The typing off to my right stopped momentarily before continuing its methodical pace.

I sighed. “Yup, again.”

“What is that? Your sixth time this school year?”

I twisted onto my side and started picking at the carpet. “Yeah, don’t remind me. Every time I have to go check out a stack of books, I’m half afraid she’s just gonna outright tell me no. And then leave me there with no explanation and no research books. I don’t even know what I’d do if that actually happened.”

“Speaking of research, didn’t you come over specifically to work on our theses together. What’d you call it… an ‘act of solidarity’ or something?” She did finger quotes in the air.

I sighed… again. “Yeah. But I can’t concentrate on anything right now.”

“That’s no excuse. Get that seasoned historian brain of yours moving. The more you get done, the closer you are to finishing.”

I groaned and stretched out my arms just to flop them onto the floor. “Why do you have to be so right all the time?”

“You could be, too, if you just tried a little harder.”

I looked over at her. “Ouch. What a friend you are.” She just looked at me. “Fine, you win.”

She thanked me and got back to work on her laptop. I envied her ability to just start working on something whenever work needed to be done. It always felt like I had to drag myself kicking and screaming out of the procrastination mud before I could do anything.

I flung myself upright, folding my legs crisscross applesauce, and stared at the document pulled up on my computer screen, then at the various library books and printed documents scattered across the floor. I read the last few lines I had written and then looked around at my mess again. I picked up the book closest to me, thumbing through the pages I had marked with sticky tabs, glancing through the more important bits of information, contemplating a way to fit it into what I’d already written on the subject.

Sarah’s relaxing study music played in the background. Soothing melodies trailed resonant notes through my jumbled, frustrated brain matter. I grabbed my mug of hot cocoa and took a sip, scrolling up through the document to see where I could fit the information in from the book in my lap.

I needed more direct quotations mixed in somewhere to make my argument for this section stronger. There. I stopped scrolling, took one more sip from my lukewarm mug, and set it down amongst the papers. I scooched closer to my laptop and brought the front part forward to balance on my knees. Ohhh, but to fit in the quotations, I was going to have to re-arrange the entire paragraph. Sighing, I knew I could skip it, but I needed perfection, so there I went.

I worked at it for a while, actually getting a couple pages roughly written out, which is lightning fast for me.

Some parts of writing and researching history can be painstakingly slow, like a needle being dragged through half-hardened honey. It keeps slipping through your fingers because there’s no grip, but if you grip it too hard and pull too fast, the needle will snap. And then you have to dig out a double, pointy-ended object encased in a semi-hardened substance with only your bare hands. But if you get it just right, at the right pace, the right rhythm, the right amount of pressure, you can easily cut a path.

Yeah, I’ve never found that path before.

“Ughhhhhhhh!” I yelled, finally falling onto my back and draping an arm across my eyes. “Why does writing a thesis have to be so haarrrrdddddddd?”

“Because it’s supposed to be, now get over it,” Sarah retorted.

“Ah,” I clutched my heart, “you’ve wounded me. How shall I ever recuperate from such a devastating blow?”

“Here, have a cookie.”

I shot up with a gasp. “Cookies!” I grabbed the stack of homemade chocolate chip cookies out of her hand and started shoving them into my mouth. “Thanks, Sarah!” I said through munches. “Your cookies are the best. I should come over more often.” I took another bite. Ah, heavenly.

“Hey,” Sarah’s voice cut through my ecstasy. “It’s already six-fifty. Didn’t you say you had a meeting for that project at seven tonight?”

I stopped chewing and looked at her with wide eyes. “Is it seriously six-fifty already?”

She double checked her watch. “Yeah, six-fifty-one now.”

“Shoot!” I shoved the rest of the cookies into my mouth and scrambled around the living room, gathering up all my stuff as fast as possible. I shot towards the chair where I had draped my coat, threw it on, and grabbed my backpack. I did one last swallow. “Thanks Sarah, I gotta go. I can’t be late.”

She stood. “Sure you don’t want a ride? You can throw your bike in the back.”

“No,” I waved her off, “it’s okay. I should make it just fine. Thanks though.” I tumbled to the door and opened it. “I’ll see you tomorrow! Later!” I shot through the hallway towards the stairwell. Rushing was the worst, and right after a feast of kings, too.

I tore through the main entrance and into the frigid night air. The night was clear, so I could see some of the stars. I glanced up and to my left as I rushed to the bike rack on the side of the building. Yup, there was the big dipper. One of the simpler constellations to find, but still one of my favorites. Reminded me of home.

My breath misted in front of me as I fumbled with the bike lock, having trouble maneuvering the mechanism through my mittens. There! The lock came free, and I tugged it through my spokes and away from the bike rack. I flinched when the metal glinted in the dark. My mind stalled as I struggled to figure out what that was. That was odd.

After stuffing the chain in my rear basket, I twisted to turn on my bike light. No use biking at night if I can’t see where I’m going. Learned that from a friend of mine. Just kidding, it was me. So, I guess maybe I’m a friend of yours? That is if you want to be friends. Do you want to be friends? Let’s just be friends. If I start to annoy you, all you have to do is close the book and voilà! I’m gone forever!

I reminded myself that, as much as I didn’t want to, I just needed to go. I was gonna be late, but I just needed to go. As I prepared to swing a leg over the bike, thoughts of what happened last time I missed one of these things barged in. My body stopped, refusing to move. Great. Not what I wanted to deal with. That was weeks ago, I should be over it by now. None of these feelings were going to help me get through tonight.

Annoyed with whatever this was I shook off the growing sense of unease. I didn’t have time for this. It was time to go.

With a fwoosh of soft snow, I was off and biking down the gentle decline of the road. My route would take me back through campus and towards the mall. According to the address I’d received, the meeting was going to take place in the back of some fancy restaurant building. I guess with all the people and traffic in that area, we’d be able to blend in pretty well and avoid suspicion. In my humble experience, people see what they expect to see and oftentimes, that’s nothing.

Ten minutes flew like a fly out a car window, and I arrived at my destination. Yay! But, according to my watch, I was definitely late. I parked my bike next to a streetlight and locked it up. Meeting number whatever had probably started without me; the Red Pathways weren’t patient people. I approached the innocent appearing door embedded in the brick wall, that uncomfortable feeling from earlier now a minor nuisance. I tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Huh. Okay, Plan B… I knocked.