The Superman Fallacy

I Look at Career Options, Sort Of

three

I hopped (more like stumbled) out of the police cruiser a full three hours later than I'd intended to be home. At this point, I was running purely on three sips of coffee and a box of smarties. I was beat in every sense of the word. 

I waved goodnight to the nice officer who had offered to drive me home from the station. Officer Krazinsky? Kavinov? It didn't matter. The only thing I cared about was shutting my eyes. I would deal with the whole death thing in the morning...and maybe invest in some therapy, while I was at it. I somehow dragged myself up the three flights of stairs leading to my apartment and found myself at my door. I scrambled to find my keys. As I went to unlock the door, I saw that they had blood splattered on them. I blew out a sigh and opened the door. 

The bathroom light was on, illuminating my path to the bed. The floor was littered in clothes and books and god knows what else. I left my keys on the counter and shrugged off my jacket, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. I felt my way along the wall to the mattress currently located on the floor. Finally. I shimmied out of my pants and flopped onto a particularly comfortable-looking pile of blankets. 

"Ow!" said the pile of blankets. I let out a shriek that would probably cause Mrs. Thompson next door to complain in the morning (but she complains even if I don't make noise. I can't win with her). I ripped back the blankets, inspecting the source of the noise. 

"Matt! Shit, you scared me! What are you doing here?" I huffed, exasperated. Matt rubbed his eyes, having the audacity to glare at me for disturbing his sleep. 

"I was sleeping, actually," Matt yawned, stretching. I rolled my eyes. Smartass. 

"A lot of people do that at..." he glanced at his watch, "5:00am?" He blinked. "Why are you back so late? Is everything okay?" I sighed. 

"Can we just talk about it in the morning? Long story short, I almost died twice today," I replied slowly. 

"Hm. Twice? That's a new record." Matt threw his arms around me and dragged me to the mattress. "You seem pretty alive to me. I'd say you came out on top," he mumbled into my hair. Within a few minutes, he was lightly breathing, already fast asleep. I closed my eyes. Yeah. I was still pretty alive. That was something, at least. 

I blinked awake to the scent of bacon. I shielded my eyes from the light streaming in from the window, yawning. I rolled to the side of the bed, which essentially meant onto the floor. The prospect of bacon propelled me to me feet and towards the source of the heavenly scent. I didn't have to travel far, as the only apartment I could afford was absolutely minuscule. Matt stood ready at the stove, spatula in hand. He turned around. 

"Hey, it's sleeping beauty!" Matt chuckled. I made a noise and pushed myself up to sit on the counter, drawing a knee to my chest. Matt placed a steaming cup of coffee in my hands. I took a long sip. Sweet, sweet caffeine. 

"I had bacon?" I reached over and crunched on a cooked piece. Matt shook his head. 

"Nope. You had a stalk of celery, mouldy yogurt and a surprisingly fresh block of cheese. I brought the bacon myself. Also, how are you still alive?" He opened my fridge, displaying the empty shelves. I grimaced. 

"Luck?" I shrugged. Matt hummed to himself as he flipped the bacon. I almost started drooling. Thank god he can cook. I had few culinary skills to my name, much to my mother's chagrin. Matt placed the bacon on a plate and flicked off the burner. He stood in front of me. 

"Wild night out?" I took an extra large chug of coffee and a deep breath. 

"So first of all, I almost get run over by a taxi, right...?" The story basically spilled out of me. Matt was the perfect listener; he gasped at all the right parts. His eyes were wide for the duration of my tale.