Braig took a long look at the building that stood before him. Ideas swirled in his head for his new home, most of them involving plants, grown and shaped into some artistic fashion. The yard before him was a lush and verdant haven and the four bedroom, three bathroom house that sat behind it, while old and due for a fresh coat of paint, looked cozy nonetheless. Say what you will about his father, whether he abandoned him at birth, he died, or simply just disappeared, he'd left Braig a good sized inheritance. One which he used to buy himself a house, get into a college (that was of course in a state that had more warm days than not) and still have enough left over for a good chunk of living expenses, not to mention the fact that his mother's new boyfriend, Frank (or Fancy Francis as Braig used to call him when they still didn't see eye to eye) had landed him a job working for a nearby corporation's corporate offices. Life was shaping up well for the young Irishman as he exited his car and walked up the driveway.
"Dallas hmm?" He sighed under his breath. For all the hype he had heard about the states, it seemed to be falling flat, aside from the ninety degree Fahrenheit weather at noon. Then again, it'd only been an hour since he stepped off the plane, so he still had a lot of time ahead of him.
The front door stood before him, a large, thick, oak wood slab with very little detail inscribed upon it, unlike the one on his old house. It had been inscribed with the story of Saint Patrick and how he banished the snakes from Ireland. It wasn't Braig's idea, but he liked it nonetheless and decided that after all else had been done, that he would have a copy of the door made for his new house.
As the tumblers in the lock clicked, the door swung wide and Braig whistled lightly. The entry way was magnificent, with a sky bridge connecting the two smaller bedrooms and the master bedroom upstairs spanning the air above the living room. The house was barren, aside from a lone dining room table with four chairs and a grocery bag, but the inside was extremely well kept. No doubt Frank had the real estate agent come in and spruce the place up with some Febreeze before Braig got there.
Wandering to the table, Braig found the grocery bag had a note scribbled on the side.
"A Loaf of bread that this home will never hunger, Salt that this life will always have flavour, Wine that there will always be celebration and joy in this home, and a Candle, that all who dwell here will know the warmth of the hearth and the light of love. Love, Mom and Frank."
Smiling at the traditional housewarming gift, Braig set his backpack down on one of the chairs and sat in another, twisting the cork from the bottle and pouring some into the empty water bottle he produced from his bag before taking a sip.
"To the start of a new life." He said, lifting both bottles in the air, toasting to no one but himself. "I think I'm going to like it here."

The leaves howled in the soft breeze, and the cool waters bathed in the suns reflection. On a wooden bench beneath the shadow of the trees, there was something almost mesmerizing about sitting there in that exact spot. In a quiet park that overlooked the Trinity River, there was a split second when you could almost forget the big city stretching out behind you. Forget all the noise, the responsibility, and most of all the people. The world was a vain, cruel place, one in which Art struggled to find his place in. Even as smart as he was, he still couldn’t answer that one lifelong question of “why was he there.” Perhaps the sun had finally fried his brain. Oh how he loathed summers in Dallas.

How he’d ended up there was as much a mystery to him as the next guy. Could have gone anywhere, done anything once he left… but no, that was a thought for another time. Focusing his attention on the ducks, he wondered to himself whether they ever felt fear, or guilt. Whether they knew what it was like to be alone (if they even cared). Most people would peg Art as a distant, cold, and even calculating person. As good as he was at playing the part, it had to all be a show really. Funny, even he didn’t know anymore.

His memory had been growing at an almost uncontrollable rate. He could almost remember what he had for breakfast every day for the last five years, or the day of the week it was, a book he read. Or worst yet, memories he wished he could forget. Tracing the scar that followed across the entirety of his neck, he grinned, standing up and ruffling his jacket. Hates the heat, never leaves without a long sleeve. Nobody said the things he does made sense. But the scars, including the ones on his wrists, told a story he didn’t want anyone to know.

Looking down, he had almost forgotten about his dog, Ares; named after the Greek God of War. The troublemaker just about caused it everywhere she went. Having the traditional black and white coat you’re used to seeing from a Siberian Husky, her eyes were another story – one a fierce icy-blue, the other a dark amber color. She looked almost ominous the way she would look up at you. Surely the runt of the littler, he found her on the streets sometime back, and guessed that she could only be roughly six months old (if that).

Hardly needing a leash, she already followed him religiously, and he didn’t live much further away from where he was at now. School ever on his mind, he sighed, starting his slow trek across the grass. And that’s when the noise came. The children playing on the swings, the cars on the streets, the planes zipping overhead. Amazing that Art could still manage to feel alone. On the streets of Dallas, he knew he had a long road ahead of him; an adventure that would never go the easy way.

Emilie had been to a desert before. It was nowhere near as hot as this. The heat seemed to visibly warp the ground, shifting buildings and people in the distance. She felt as if she were within a man-made oven, specifically designed to broil people alive.

She couldn't help but miss Quebec. Though despite the heat, Dallas was a nice city. Almost too nice, though. Used to the socially and geographically colder environment of her home province, Emilie was taken aback by the forwardness of southern Americans. Many had long-winded conversations with her about mundane things like weather, local politics, football, or gas prices. Many spoke with heavy, acoustic accents, just like some of the bad cowboy westerns she had watched as a child. She heard the word "Y'all's" used more than once, in regular conversation instead of as a joke.

She idly sat in a hammock hung in the shade of two large trees, watching people go to and fro. Many were well-dressed, wearing latest trends and styles. Some wore backpacks or satchels, chatting to their classmates as they walked. She even saw a trio of well-built guys throwing a Frisbee in an incredibly large, well-trimmed clearing. It looked like a university, sounded like a university, but it still didn't feel right. Conversations here felt forced or reserved, and she was certain she got more than one nasty look whenever she spoke, almost as if this campus was the one hidden niche of unpleasantness that Dallas had since failed to offer.

Emilie blamed her cousin a little bit. Anne had hyped the school for her, throwing compliment after compliment about how great it would be. Besides, she needed a roommate, and it had been a few years since they'd seen each other. In addition, she had a foreign exchange scholarship and the money from a recent court settlement, so why not?

Of course, Anne was the one who had nailed Emilie the scholarship. Heavily involved in Greek life and campus politics - she had dated the Dean's son once - she talked to the Registrars board, Commissions, and somehow convinced them anyone who mattered. She probably over-hyped Emilie just as she over-hyped the school. Emilie found it amazing on how just one student could wield influence like that. Though, she didn't complain. She was finally a college student.

She sunk back into the hammock, closing her eyes. Her classes didn't start for another few days, so she might as well comfortably nap while she still can. From what she'd heard, university was one long, sleepless night.

It's a pity that for her, it would be much worse than a few late-night cram sessions.

It took Lo five minutes to master the fickle mess that was her dorm room lock.

"To open, turn to the right twice and jiggle hard," she repeated the RA's advice under her breath, going as far as to even kick the door to unstick the lock. The tips of her toes stung on impact, the heavy wood bumping loudly in it's frame. Her cheeks warmed as she felt the faceless bodies behind her turn her way. Or at least, that's what she imagined they did, the hairs on the back of her neck pricking under one of the many ac vents pumping the hall with crisp air.

To her relief, the thick dead bolt finally gave way to her jiggling and she bursted into her room, a gust of ac stirring up her hair. Ah, home sweet... home? Yup, this was home now. She leaned against the now closed door, her purse dropping to her feet as she let that sink in.

This was home now.

A grin stretched across her cheeks, leaving dimples as she took a deep breath in and out. Her mother was gone now, back on a plane to Washington where Lo grew up. The single room wasn't much, overloaded with fed-ex boxes she insisted she could unpack on her own, but it was her room. At college.

She squealed, her excitement bursting out into a squirm-like dance. She threw herself onto the bed her mother had insisted on at least making up for her before they went out for one last meal together. She kept her shoes on and squirmed all the more, elated laughter bubbling from her lips as her paint-splashed Converses undid an edge of the bed.

So this is what freedom felt like.

She grinned like a fool, her one good eye crinkled with happiness as it skimmed her room. The other sat stagnant, unseeing and murky. She simply turned her head to ensure she saw everything, her belly full and warm from a large lunch. Thankfully she had a meal card and there would be no need for Ramen. Her art scholarship assured that.

Her dorm room was nothing special. At least not yet. It had been outfitted the same as all the rest-- a heavy wooden bed, short matching dresser, and a desk. It was simple. She could work with that. Her mind spun with decorating possibilities as she sat up, the plastic mattress crinkling under her. Her mother had bought her a padded bed cover but it remained buried amongst the boxes. She eyed them, her elation calming to a happy buzz that not even homework could kill right now.

A place to decorate, all her own.

She grabbed a box cutter and got to work.

---

---

Tangibility returned; his long fingers tensed and relaxed around the hardcover novel in his right hand, the left was hauled up almost absently to drag it along the corner of his mouth where something warm and wet had gathered. For too long his eyes refused to open, but when they did, it was to a white-wash, splashes of bright teal and lime green almost shocking to his still-tired eyes. He’d done it for the hundredth time that summer—book in-hand, he’d dozed on the padded bay seat by the stunning French windows in the Varela family’s two-storey bungalow. The bright white and bits of colour that had nearly blinded him upon waking was his own bedroom, which he’d opted for a clean-edged and modern feel with everything in crisp white from the beanbag chair in the corner, to the laptop on his stainless steel accented desk, to the quilt he’d made himself and had dressed his low-set bed with, patterned with different types of fabric he found in second-hand stores. On the wall behind his bed, there was a set of three round mirrors with lime green frames, descending diagonally from the wall farthest from him.

Things were still hazy for a long moment. Castellano had to stare hard at the book he’d been reading previous to his impromptu absence from the world, but before long he could recall the last several pages, nearly word for word. A sigh of relief prompted a loud and satisfied mewl from the little calico that was practically draped over his right knee, effectively cutting off circulation. He wiggled his toes and sure enough, painful electric shocks prickled everything from his foot up to the back of his calf. “Yuna…. You have to move, baby.” The calico’s amber-coloured eyes narrowed on him as she stretched out as far as she could, then resumed her position with her head on her paws as she went in for round two. Her eyes closed and Cass frowned. “I’m serious, come on!” It was already bad enough that his left nostril was clogged while his face sported a bright red swatch of colour, but it would only get worse if he picked her up and tossed her off. Instead, he twisted his leg to straighten it before turning gently, threatening to stand. As predicted, the cat became easily offended by the notion of her personal bed moving out from underneath her that she vacated the premises, looking for somewhere a little more stationary. Cass shook his head, bookmarked his page, and grabbed a tissue on his way out of the room.

He was routing around in the bathroom cupboard for his allergy medication when Camilo bounded in, hoisting himself up on the counter with a grin. “So, college, eh.” Cass didn’t have to turn to see his younger brother, comparatively cuter than Cass with a sweeter face, loosely tousled black-brown hair, a darker tan on his skin, and a much more toned body—competitive swimming tended to do that. “Dad’s still upset that you’re not going for that doctorate of medicine that he was expecting.”

Cass let out a half laugh, finding his prescribed medication and proceeded to twist the cap off, dropping a pair of pink pills at the back of his throat. “Still going on about that? It’ll be you next, just wait. You better forget your lifetime of pinning bugs to Styrofoam, Milo; Dad’s going to want at least one son to do something productive with his life—as if law isn’t a smart thing to practice. Everyone’s sue crazy these days; I’ll have a nice house, a partner, maybe a kid or two, a silver Lexus… all by the time I’m thirty. I mean, I have three years left for my Bachelor of Sciences in English, and Joel at work is going to write me a recommendation for Harvard, and that’ll be about four years.” He shoved the bottle back into the cupboard, drawing no more than two mouthfuls of water from the sink into a paper cup to chase the pills down with, then crushed it in his fist and tossed it in the small recycling box in the linen closet. “He has nothing to complain about.”

“This is all by you calculations, right?” Camilo smirked, leaning back to rest on the glass mosaic-tiled wall, thinking over his older brother’s cut-throat logic—straight to the point, no dawdling. In some ways, he could be quite ironically similar to Leonardo Varela.

“You know it.”

Cass effectively shut down the conversation, leaving the room with Camilo hot on his heels. The conversation was over, but there was no way he was getting away so fast. “So, you’re sure you actually want to move into the dorms this year?”

The older Varela son peeked over his shoulder, heading down the stairs to slip his shoes on at the door. “I’m heading over right now to get unpacked,” he responded while watching Camilo shift his weight between his legs a few times, raking his teeth over his bottom lip. Of course he was going to do this. “Oh come on, Milo; what are you going to do when I go to Harvard? Anyway, I already promised Mom I’d be back once a week for a family dinner. I’m coming back, and you’re going to spam text me until I turn my phone off, so quit pouting.” He straightened himself, reached for his car keys out of a glass bowl near the door and took one more look at his younger brother with a heavy sigh. He offered a reassuring smile, a pat on the shoulder, and finished cleanly with, “Love you, eh.” Before he left the house, slipping neatly into his already packed steel grey Honda Civic, plugging in his phone to play his music before pulling out of the driveway.

This is it, he told himself, heading out for the school with a heavy heart. This was the start of the biggest change of his life.

---

Two whole days, that's how long it takes Sola to make her way to Dallas. She knew she should have taken a flight, but paying for a plane ticket would have set her back. She needs the money, so that she won't have to rely on the good graces of her mother to help her out. With the school and living expenses she knows it will be a struggle to keep herself afloat, but Sola is nothing if not determined to make it.

Another day later and shes staring at the mostly empty inside of her new dorm. She should be unpacking, but she doesn't. Instead she waits around a while, only unpacking things as she needs them. Until the point where she realizes she packed up her phone, and has to dig through various boxes to find it. She notices several missed calls and texts, all from her parents and a few various friends back home. She sends out a few texts before calling her dad back, not wanting him to worry that she may be dead or something.

"You should give your mom a call." Those are the first words out of his mouth. Annoyed, Sola sinks into her unmade bed.

"Maybe later..." She answers, pausing to fix herself a glass of water. Using a chipped mug from the only box she has unpacked so far. In truth she would rather stab herself in the eye. No doubt her mom is already awaiting the call, ready to tear into Sola for whatever reason she can think of. Julianna being the kind of person to find fault in just about anything. Sola is too tired from the long road trip to deal with it. "Shes worried," He points out. Sola highly doubts that, if anything Julianna could care less about her daughters disappearance. Not that her disappearance is anything to really worry about, she's going to be attending University in Dallas. If anything Julianna should be happy that Sola is seeking out a higher education.

"Sure she is," Sola replies.

"Oh come on shes your mother, I know she can be difficult but -" Sola snorts, blocking out the rest of his sentence. "Difficult is an understatement." She says, suddenly very tired. "She's still your mother Sloane." His reply is a little snappish. Sola knows he is becoming annoyed. She can't blame him though, Sola knows her own ability when it comes to getting on other peoples nerves. But instead of backing off with her childish whining she only becomes angry. She clenches her hand around the mug, trying to control herself.

"Wow, nice observation, she was your wife at one point maybe you should be calling her."

He pauses, Sola can hear his steady breathing on the other end of the line. She prepares herself for some kind of reprimand. Instead he sighs, sounding tired and defeated. "Sorry...I just don't want to fight with her right now." Sola admits, feeling like the biggest jerk in the world. She sets aside the chipped mug, watching water slosh over the top and spill out over the table. Another thing to add to the list of annoyances for the day.

"I'll call her after I unpack, I promise." Little white lies, Sola is going to put off calling her for as long as possible. But her words seem to placate him enough. They chat for a short while longer, mostly about the classes she will be taking and how shes settling into the apartment. For the most part Sola answers truthfully, though she glosses over the part about feeling completely isolated in the apartment. Eventually she sets the phone aside and stands to examine the gathering of boxes in the middle of the apartment.

"Ugh, time to get to work..."

Unpacking the rest of the boxes takes nearly the rest of the morning.

With all of her unpacking finally finished she decides that now is as good a time as any to check out the University. Since its where she will be spending most of her time from this point on. She changes into something a little more comfortable, and grabs her black jacket from the pile of clothes she has thrown haphazardly on her bed before leaving the dorm.

She isn't exactly sure where to go first. Instead of wandering aimlessly she takes a seat at a bench, content with watching the flow of people coming and going. Its almost overwhelming, and she knows the first few weeks won't exactly be easy. But her determination to succeed pushes away the anxious thoughts.

Emilie sighs, looking at the new pile that awaited her. A large duffelbag, a suitcase, and her schoolbag. Luckily for her she didn't have to carry five-hundred-something-odd pounds of junk to her dorm. Like hell she'd have to pay for the extra shipping.

"Remember, I texted you the building and room number!" Anne had helped haul Emilie's belongings to the campus - the two of them had originally forgotten to bring it, and Emilie stayed and tried to familiarize herself as Anne did a quick round trip. It burnt through the time they had originally planned to spend together, and Anne apparently had something else important on her plate. She was back in her car as soon as the last bag hit the ground, and was speeding away before Emilie could even explain that her phone had died.

Painfully shouldering her belongings - each bag Emilie carried seemed to worsen the pressure in her ankle - Emilie trudged towards the residential area; several complexes with small dorms, a humble rec center, and various other facilities. She passed other students exchanging farewell with family or friends, hauling box after box of junk. They all seemed relatively busy, and she doubted they'd know where her dorm was either. Probably just as new as she was.

She later saw a lone, diminutive girl sitting on a bench, and approached, calling out.

"Hey - hey, do you, uh..." Emilie said, giving a sigh as she takes a seat shaking her bad foot, "By any chance, do you know where 502 is? Dorm 502?" She had repeated herself just in case, as her dialect seemingly gave some Texans trouble earlier. "I'm not sure how it's organized here... and I forgot which building it's in."

Meredith scrubbed her hands and arms thoroughly hardly aware of what she was doing, after four years in medical school scrubbing in and out after surgery was second nature to her. lost in her thoughts she didn't hear her supervising surgeon come and stand next to her and jumped when he spoke.

"Easy there." He said. "I just wanted to say well done, You did really well in there today. You are going to be one hell of a doctor!"

"Thanks Dr Owens, that even makes up for nearly giving me a heart attack!" She responded with a grin.

Dr Owens, a man in his late forties, was one of the lecturers at the Dallas Medical School and he was notorious for being sparing with his praise and so the compliment was doubly rewarding for Meredith. Having finished scrubbing whilst talking she dried her hands and the two of them headed for the locker rooms, Meredith reflected on her sheer luck as they walked. Her educational history since leaving high school had been one of ups and downs and when she had applied to continue her studies in Dallas rather than where she had previously studied, no one had expected her to be accepted. But to everyones surprise, including hers, she had been and she had promised herself she would do her best to be the best. Now in her final year of her degree she felt like she was almost there and having Dr Owens acknowledge all of her hard work made it all worth it.

"Have you thought any more on where you want to do your residency?" He asked her as they changed out of their scrubs and into their normal clothes. Meredith paused to pull on her skinny blue jeans, calf length black boots and dark green checked short sleeved shirt.

"Dallas General has a really good reputation." She said. "But there's still time before I have to decide and apply."

"True, you could do a lot worse than Michael Stroud." He replied naming the head of the hospital's accident and emergency which was where she wanted to do her residency. "But don't take too long as this is a life changing decision."

"I won't I promise, I have to go. Thank you for today Doctor." Meredith said smiling openly, Dr Owens had put her at ease from the beginning and he was one of very few people that she was truly herself with.

She exited the medical school's main building and walked along the footpath that joined it to the rest of the campus, Dallas university had both the main university and the medical school on the same site which had been useful for her as there had been more live in dorms available. The school year had not officially started yet but she had signed on to some extra curricular classes in various subjects in order to get the best grade possible. Thankfully the morning class was the only one she had today and she was looking forward to the well earned break. In between school years she had worked long hours at a local hospital as a volunteer, building up her experience record, and so she spent most days really tired.

It was only a few days till the start of the school year and the campus was abuzz with new students arriving and looking understandably lost or returning students greeting friends and settling in again. Though she had a dorm room, her roommate last year had left and she currently did not have anyone taking her place. Deciding she wanted to relax out doors she walked to her favourite spot on campus. A large tree with lovely blossoms on it, she sat cross legged under it and pulled out her sketchbook. She leaned back with a sigh and began to draw the students coming and going around her.

Elle tucks into herself, feet pressed against the dash while her head lolls to the side. Nearly asleep but not quite there yet. This road trip kept dragging on, and on. It wouldn't end until they reached her final destination - Dallas University...Or more importantly the place she would be stuck at for who knows how long until she finally achieves what no-one else in her family has managed to achieve before. Elles initial idea of College was a little run down Community College just down the road from their apartment. Elle could have continued living at home, and saved herself the money its so far taken to get this far.

But Carrie wouldn't have any of it. In fact the entire road trip has been silent and tense save for the static-y buzz of the radio as it struggles to pick up a station. Elle knows Carrie hates the noise but in a way it comforts Elle. Nothing like white noise to block out the sting of rejection.

"Everything is going to be fine," Carrie insists as they reach the final stretch. A few more miles to go and Elles heart is already beating hard in her chest. What if she can't connect with anyone here? Elle can't live in isolation forever. The boredom, and the depression, she had faced all of that once before right after her grandparents died. Elle locked herself away until everything finally caught up to her. She doesn't want to live through that kind of loneliness again.

"In fact if I recall correctly you are going to have a roommate..." Carrie trailed off in thought. Elle nods, still silent as she uncurls from her odd sitting position to stretch out her aching legs. "Thats what the administration office said when I called this morning." Elle confirms, so quiet that Carrie strains to hear her. Elle feels almost like a child still, afraid to try something new. Yet all along this had been her plan - her choice to send an application to this particular university. She wouldn't take it back even if she could. "I'm not sure why I couldn't just get a single dorm..." Elle says, trying to seem uncaring despite the slight waver in her voice.

Carrie shrugs, taking a sharp turn as they almost miss the road they should be on. From this point Elle can see the Campus, as they grow ever closer. This will be the last time she sees her sister for a while, and Elle almost feels like shes going to have a panic attack. Instead, when they park she takes a deep breath and ignores the sensation of anxiety crawling in her gut. Elle can survive without her sister, she isn't weak. Or so she tries to remind herself as they both gather up Elles bags. Three suitcases packed only with the essentials.

They first pop in to the administration office, where Elle proceeds to ask for some kind of direction towards her dorm room. The woman at the desk gives vague directions to where the dorms are located but other than that seems far too busy examining her phone to give any help to Elle and her sister. Eventually though they manage to find the dorm, despite how long it takes them and Elle only has to suffer through a little bit of trouble getting the door open.

Elle had been hoping that the person she would be sharing the dorm with would have already been there so they could meet, but those hopes are dashed when she notices that it is mostly empty. Carrie stands awkwardly in the door while Elle uncertainly gazes around the room, seeming a little conflicted. "Well, its not home but it is nice." Carrie comments, carrying one of the suitcases in and sitting it down in a corner. No doubt Elle is going to leave the bags alone for at least a good week before actually unpacking.

"I guess," Elle answers shortly. She turns and looks at her sister, feeling a little lost as she realizes that Carrie can't stay here with her. She has to get back home, back to work. While Elle would be stuck only being able to communicate her through text and call. Elle sighs and hugs her older sister.

"I'll miss you." Elle says, sincerely.

"I'll miss you too kid," Carrie answers.

---

About twenty minutes later Elle is left alone in the dorm room. Unpacking a few sets of clothes that she can wear for the rest of the week. Classes won't start for a while and she isn't too keen on getting lost while wandering around the campus on her own. Waiting for her roommate to arrive seems like the best course of action. Elle isn't quite sure if the other person has been contacted by the administration yet. But seeing as how lazy they seem to be she highly doubts it.

"Oh well," Elle says, talking aloud to herself. She puts on some headphones and flops down onto one of the beds, before she knows it the soothing music paired with her over all exhaustion has her falling fast asleep.

---

---

The campus was just as Castellano remembered it; ever unchanging, this was a constant that was welcome in his rather hectic life though if he were to be completely honest, he was going to miss his mom’s brilliant personality and his clingy little brother keeping his days full of energy and excitement with every one different. He didn’t start feeling homesick until he’d made it to his room with the first of the boxes, setting them on the floor by his bed. He’d already been around a few days before to get his bed made up and hang some posters. Now it was mostly just unpacking clothes, electronics, and various knick-knacks that he’d collected over the years, reminding him of home and his family.

Just like his room at home, when he’d started thinking of how to decorate his dorm, Cass had gone for white, lime, and Seafoam, opting to make it as modern contemporary as possible. He wanted this to look and feel like home if he could help it, but by the time he’d finished unpacking his laptop and computer accessories as well as a box of decorative items including a MUJI Fragrant Light with six different diffuser oils to try out. He set it up immediately, filling the room with the scent of vanilla bean in a matter of minutes; this thing was no joke, for such a small thing it worked amazingly well, and it looked great with the rest of his décor. Better than anything he’d get at one of the local places, anyway. Cass glanced around his room once with a sigh and a heavy heart as he turned, heading back out to get the boxes containing his clothes. He’d had no idea how hard this was going to be in all reality. When he’d decided last spring to spend his next school year in the dorm, maybe he hadn’t really been thinking about it—he wanted to think he’d made a mistake, but this was probably for the best. He was a grown man and he wasn’t going to let himself live under his father’s roof for much longer than he had to.

Another box and a duffel bag were lugged up to his room. The box contained framed photos, the ribbons from his most memorable horse shows, a large golden trophy with his and Calais’ names engraved on the plaque at the base, and he’d jammed in a stuffed horse that he’d bought because he’d kind of thought it looked like Calais somewhat. Beneath the lamp on his side table, he set up a picture of his mare prancing about in the pasture, her pretty face turned as she watched him. He smiled looking at her, the high-strung coming four-year-old who he’d part-leased to her boarding stable as a lesson horse for intermediate students. She was very honest and an uncomplicated ride, but she was still just a green baby with only a year of backed experience under her belt. Still, the mare had all the scope and energy to clear a five-foot Jumper course with ease, and the big, fancy movement to turn heads in the Dressage ring. It would have been three-day eventing for them if it weren’t for the fact that ditches were the Pits of Hell, logs had teeth, and Calais was certain that water was actually a God who demanded the sacrifice of her rider. Once they’d tried the Cross-Country course and she slammed on the breaks at a canter just as they made it to the water’s edge, sending Cass tumbling face first into a pond that would have barely come up to the mare’s knees. He chuckled to himself, placing her picture on the side table carefully. He wasn’t going to have a lot of time for lessons this year, and he was going to miss her.

Castellano’s expression darkened as he pulled a picture of his family out, watching how they all grinned happily for the camera. Specifically he stared at his father, who had an arm around his oldest son’s neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. Cass was trying not to look too upset about it, but he failed miserably with the half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes and how he completely positioned his body away from his father. Mom must have packed this, he told himself, because he surely hadn’t done as much himself and there was no way Camilo ever would have helped him get ready to leave.

He had to put it down, finish that later. Luckily, when he began to unpack his duffel bag, filled with clothes his mother had washed and folded for the last time, he was surprised to find a traditional Japanese bento box wedged into the middle of everything. He had to smile to himself and decided to take a break, heading outside to find a nice spot to eat the boxed lunch while the summer was still in full swing. He could finish unpacking later. Who was going to say anything, anyway?

---

She teeters on the edge of oblivion. Mind straying to the far corners of her imagination. Boredom finally gnawing its way into her, she leans her head back and lets the sunlight wash over her face. Eyes watering from brightness of it. Day dreaming to pass the time as she sits, nothing else to do besides go back to the dorm room and wait. But she doesn't want to be there alone yet. Its still too new for her to be comfortable in.


Sola looks up at the approach of another young woman. At first when the other girl speaks Sola is taken off-guard by the dialect. Even Sola, with her own watered down accent couldn't compare. In her daze she almost misses the question, so overtaken by curiosity. 'By any chance, do you know where 502 is? Dorm 502?' A question that Sola began to ask herself in her mind, repeating it until her mouth finally caught up with her brain.

"I'm not sure how it's organized here... and I forgot which building it's in.' She speaks again before Sola answers. It has to be a coincidence, or thats what Sola tries to tell herself. But Sola has never believed in coincedence...everything happens for a reason. Its about twenty seconds before Sola realizes that she has been almost awkwardly staring at the young woman for nearly a minute, not saying a word. Sola feels heat rush to her face knowing she must look like such a weirdo.


"Oh uh, I'm Sola."She stands quickly, feeling a little foolish now. Palms sweaty from her sudden spike of nervousness. She tries for a nonchalant smile, though smiling has never really been something she's good at. "I'm in 502 as well, looks like we're roomies."Sola lets out a small, dry laugh. Its not something anyone would find funny, but the situation itself has brought about the Sid of Sola that seems to think anything is funny.

["Um...I can show you the way?" she offers, motioning with her hands towards the way she came from earlier. Hopefully the other girl wouldn't see her as a complete lunatic, but Sola knew better than to hope.

“Well, isn’t that the understatement of the century.” Rhetorical, of course. Art doubted anyone could really sympathize with his plight nor begin to fathom what coursed through every fiber of his brain. No one could understand just how disassociated he was with the world, or maybe it was the world that was disassociated with him. “And here for a moment I thought Ares was the only dog who was following me home.” Of course, it was nearly impossible to figure whether Art was joking or a not. To be perfectly honest, even Art wouldn’t be able to answer that himself. There was a part of him that was, but then a completely other that simply questioned everything just because he felt someone should.

Classes were right around the corner, and Art only had another semester to go before he would be finished with his dual-major in both Psychology and Neuroscience. Just last semester he had received a 45 on the MCAT; a perfect, and unheard of score. “Once I drop Ares off, Simon, I think I’m going to pop by the school and pick up a few books.” Wasn’t much of an invitation. Art rarely asked for anything, and when he did, he was keener at getting his way without ever having to ask at all.

Both Art and Simon had been living in a rather upscale two-bedroom apartment on the third floor, overlooking the river and much of the city. They were only about two-blocks from it, and a short ride on the light rail from the university. As Ares sniffed Simon’s hands, Art only had to snap his fingers for the dog to quickly fall in line behind him. Even for the dog being so young, it knew better than to not mind him – something the dog could see in Art’s eyes. “Shall we go then?” Whether he was speaking to Ares, or Simon, was up for interpretation.

Emilie couldn't help but shake the feeling that this girl - Sola, her name was - was a bit anxious... perhaps a bit 'out there'. Maybe it was her hesitant speech or jittery movements. Then again, she did just come in and randomly happen to find her roommate, so maybe this girl had found that strange. Maybe she was just overeager for attention. Maybe Emilie should stop thinking like a shrink and trying to analyze a total stranger.

"Sure. Just - oomph..." Emilie said, slowly standing up, pushing herself from the bench and giving Sola a warm smile. "I'm Emilie, by the way. And sure, I'd love to know the way. Beats wandering around aimlessly for hours on end, carrying lord-knows-whatever's making all this so heavy." She punctuated this with a small chuckle, effortlessly shifting her dufflebag from one shoulder to the other. None of her three bags were really too heavy, especially for someone of her height, but her foot was already starting to ache terribly. She wanted nothing more than to just sit down somewhere comfortable for a while.