high achiever, don't you see? baby, nothing comes for free

I was going a little out of my mind with ideas and stories and no real outlet for them. So when the posting popped up that someone was asking for writers to work on a new independent publication, I seized on the opportunity. Who knew? Maybe it would end up as a paying job and I could get myself out of the home. I was being picky on that front, I knew, but there were so many choices that I was being denied, just by being in Darrow itself, that I wanted what power I did have to be exercised exactly how I wanted it to be. No burger slinging jobs for me, only something I loved.

There was a light rain drizzling down as I made my way to the coffee shop, so my hair was a bit frizzed despite the now damp hoodie I had on over my shirt. At least my trusty boots were made for walking in the rain and my messenger bag, carrying vital notebooks, was waterproof.

I scanned the crowd of coffee and sugar addicts that had been drawn to the warmth and caffeine through the rain. There in the back I saw an Asian woman surrounded by books and papers. Yup, that pretty much matched the description plus the image I had in my mind. I don't think I would trust any reporter who didn't have a full desk.

I grabbed myself a double chocolate mocha with whipped cream to drown out the taste of coffee, which I was still getting used to, and headed over to the table.

"Hi?" I said. "Cindy?"