The screech of an alarm clock shatters the quiet in Kara's dormitory. A string of curses follow as she flings herself across the small room to shut it off. Frakking Kendra, always staying at her girlfriend's apartment. Kara doesn't mind having the space to herself, but she does mind when her roommate forgets to power down things that make noise in the mornings. She's tired, but she had an excellent night, and a smile creeps over her face as she moves around.


It's 7:02am. Kara's got an appointment with a Fleet recruiter in a few hours; she's not sure she wants to follow in her mother's footsteps, but she knows she wants to kick the world's ass. Options are always good. What can she really do with a dual degree in physics and humanities after college? She tosses her pajamas aside, finds a few things that aren't too wrinkled or dirty and pulls them on. The nearby windowpanes are streaked with rain. Her stomach grumbles and she smacks it lightly. Karl just started working early shift at one of the places nearby. Surely she can cadge breakfast out of her oldest friend.

She's out the door in less than five minutes, wearing Kendra's fancy black raincoat and sidestepping the biggest puddles. Her bag holds five bucks, her phone, a train pass, and a set of keys. She walks down the street, sees Karl carrying trays of steaming food at Vega, the all-night diner on the corner. He nods in acknowledgment as she strides up and seats herself at the counter. She pours salt into the sugar, tosses some pepper into the salt, tapping her foot as she waits for him, anyone, to pour the coffee. An older man with round glasses and a pockmarked face drops a chipped brown mug in front of her; he brings the caffeine of the gods, but fills her cup only halfway.

Kara opens her mouth to argue, but yawns and snaps it shut when she sees that he's looking out the window at a woman coming in. This woman, whoever she is, brings a presence that fills the space around her. Her long red hair flows past her shoulders, her dark-rimmed glasses highlighting a gaze that is fixed on the man behind the counter. “It is always nice to see you, Laura,” he says. Kara watches as she carefully shakes out her yellow umbrella onto the mat running between the door and the register. She beams and leans closer to kiss his cheek. “You too, Bill,” she says softly.

The scent of coffee hits Kara's nose and she pretends not to see them, reaching instead for two creamers. Another patron has left the day's paper on the counter; she idly flips through the pages and sips the liquid. A headline jumps out: some actor has died while he was drinking. She hasn't heard of Simon O'Neill or his play.

She hears Karl's good-natured laugh nearby as she glances at the horoscopes. He ambles over, twirling a pen between his fingers. She notes the hickey on his neck, raises an eyebrow, noting that she needs to grill him about it later. “What'll it be, Starbuck?” He turns to a new page in his notebook. “Three eggs over easy with hash browns and a side of fruit, and make it snappy,” she replies. The two friends grin at each other, happy for the other's presence. He heads away to place her order. “Thanks, Helo!” she calls to his retreating back.

The comics are her favorite section. Kara reads through them, savoring each one, mindlessly eating forkfuls of food when her plate arrives. Occasionally she bursts into raucous laughter. Halfway through, she feels someone staring at her. She whips around in her seat. Outside, under the canopy's diner, there's a tall blond woman staring intently forward. Kara realizes the woman is staring at her own reflection and not looking through the window at Kara, or anyone else, at all. Kara pats her jeans as the woman adjusts her stockings like no one can see. Rain from the overhang lands on her hair, slides into the blond waves.

Karl walks by again, leans over to Kara. “On the house, little lady. Eat up.” She blinks and turns around to hastily finish her food. He's the only one who gets away with any sort of cutesy names for her. She checks her phone: no new messages, and a prediction for the rain to taper off later in the day. Leaving an empty mug and nothing but a melon rind and smears of egg, she tucks four dollar bills under the plate, then waves to Karl and exits the diner.

Faint cathedral bells chime the new hour. Kara walks on autopilot to the train station and merges into the crowd. She stands to the right on a long descending escalator, thinks about her date last night. The guy from her art history capstone seminar asked her out a few days ago, and she'd agreed. Yesterday Lee arrived at her door after 11pm. He had a basket in one hand, the long neck of a wine bottle jutting out from the cover. They walked to the campus law quad, where he laid out a picnic for the two of them, each flavorful dish better than the last. All finger food. Kara had eaten ravenously, laughing at Lee's stories and telling him some of her own. She'd kissed him good-night and wondered what other skills he had.

As she stands on the busy platform, waiting for the train, her phone vibrates. She looks down and sees a message from Lee. I had a good time last night. When can I see you again? The train arrives and she shoves her way to a seat, humming quietly as she replies.