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Allerick raised his head from the edge of his bed, a corner of his plain white sheets draped over his face. He twisted his face a little to loosen the grip of sleep from it and yanked the blindfold off of him with a wide swing of his arms. He squinted as the wall of glass in front of him magnified the intensity of the early sun. He then flipped over with a huff and realized he had ventured too far and his legs spread and whirled the rest of his body onto the floor with a deep Thump. Allerick groaned and shifted his body so his neck was relieved of the weight he so clumsily applied to it. He paused for only a moment before looking back out into the sunshine and recognized the benefit of the prospect of getting up.

He stood up and elongated his expansive frame, allowing his muscles to completely unfurl in the luxuriating sunlight. Summer was unquestionably his favorite season; he loved the vitality the sun fed him, making him even more productive than normal. He always felt more nourished, and it was a time where he truly needed its extra boost. Unfortunately, he was getting a late start on making use of it, since it was August, and he wanted to slap himself for wasting his most treasured time on her. But no, he would not think about it, that was over now and it no longer mattered.

Keeping on his current train of thought he pointedly thought: Now this is the life, and, without even deciding on it, added, except the one thing missing. He sighed, ashamed of himself; he had prided himself as the guy who was never defined by anyone. Not his father, not his superior, and definitely not a woman. He had to get a handle on this foreign tug at his diaphragm and re-merge with his course of a self-sustaining, comfortable, life. He was going to do it, really.

Just like the half empty pie pan in the refrigerator the day after New Years, his resolution was undermined almost immediately as he turned around and faced a metallic picture frame carefully holding the giddy faces of two, young, successful adults in love. Ugh, why do I even still have that thing? He would never understand the abstract reasons lurking behind every person's actions, or non actions. He swiftly made amends to that query by swooping it up and dumping it in the nearest trash can. He didn't bother with the frame; he wouldn't need it now. She had practically shoved a gun to his head to get him to take the picture, and since he never intended to encounter the experience in the first place the possibility of a repeat was obliterated with the remains of her existence in his life.

Allerick wasted no more time in going about his "routine" like every "secure" American in the US, though he found no more security in it than a tank top did in a winter storm. He jumped into the shower quickly, tripping out of his boxers so as to not lose his nerve and crawl back into the warmth of his bed. Oddly, he was more thorough in his cleaning job, making sure to get soap all around his torso, under his pits, the back of his neck, and the bottom of his feet.

As usual, he felt the comforting ridges of long healed scars at all the right places, familiar touches and sounds pulsing across his mind as he swept over them. He smiled unconsciously, spurring a new vigor for his day ahead. After all, who knew what kind of trouble he could get into today? He wanted to laugh maliciously to complete the fantasy, and he could have too, but somehow his body did not find the prospect all that interesting so silent he remained.

After pulling on his normal dark collared shirt, which was the very shade that was often debated as either dark gray or a smoky black (which ironically is why anyone bought it), all he needed was a kickass vitamin that claimed to make all areas of his physical life, including sex, dramatically better and a PowerAde before heading out the door. As he entered the long hallway to the elevator, Allerick almost forgot where he lived, suddenly having been bombarded with the fear that some gooey eyed neighbor would pop out of their apartments and "catch up". The funny thing was about that saying was that you wouldn’t be described as getting “caught” if you didn’t run in the first place.  And who wouldn’t run from nosy people?

Only after stealing several menacing looks behind him and inside every corner did he remember that he had moved to this complex for the very satisfaction that no concerned strangers would barge in on his time and try to relate to him. He could only think of his Aunt Marcie, who would call him whenever she heard the latest bits and pieces of his withdrawn life to offer her counsel. All he could do was laugh at her, and the fact that he was prevented from anyone else protruding into his matters as if their very interference with him held significance.

His giddiness settled as the elevator doors closed, and by the time he stepped out into the open foyer, he was back to business once more. He wondered what Declan would think about his cursory hiatus. Well actually, no. What he really was trying to imagine was how Declan would react, because the longer he knew him, the more he discovered how polarizing those two were.

Declan could dock his pay all he wanted, he could give him the skimpiest of assignments, but Allerick could not dare ask for a pardon. Not that she was worth it, but that he refused to act as though he were some desk clerk, running down the days until his marriage, and then to his first child, then to his empty nest, then to his retirement, then finally to his death. He held no similarities to them, other than the fact that they breathed the same air; Allerick was self-motivated, as they were not, he knew what he wanted and did not have to waste too much time in formulating action, as they did not, his attempts were efficient and successful, as theirs was not, and he, most of all, was capable without the desperation of others, as they were not.

Allerick was now surrounded by men and women spawned off the same genetic coding he had just scorned, and being face to face with them was no less degrading as he squished inside the subway. After catching the eye of a couple of women off to a day of "striving to prove themselves in the modern workplace" he decided it would be best to ignore their fruitless existence and focus on the brighter subject of his future. With any luck, Roldan would be back from his time in New Hampshire. Maybe then he could finally get back to where he left off. Not getting anything accomplished was like a fire inside him, it was motivating to get him going again, but if he learned to coincide with it, it would destroy the very manner in which he lived his life. He would never subject himself to that.

He felt more himself again as he entered the building marked McAllister & Co., like coming across the threshold of your childhood home after being away for a while. He greeted the pretty blonde at the information desk, which he always thought was absurdly named considering that she had no authority to give anyone information on anything concerning the company, and after her face turned distinctly astonished, she smiled back, wishing him a good morning. He nodded graciously then proceeded to another elevator at the end of a very bizarre hallway lined by mirrors. He almost slowed when an image of a dark haired woman appeared, the sides of the scene fraying as if it were fabricated. He was right by her side as she checked her image before they walked side by side down the corridor, her face so confident he wanted to make sure she always felt so assured.

Allerick almost tripped as he tried to speed up to gain the same stride as before, but his well rehearsed muscles did not allow for that possibility and righted himself rigidly. There's really nothing more to it, just stop, he said to himself. The time was twelve minutes of nine, exactly the time he was planning on. The elevator doors came together like an eager clam and he tried to maintain the same dauntless attitude about the coming day, though the farther he went on, the more complicated it seemed to be.

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