Heading Home

Streetlights are flashing on as the evening darkness settles in with the rain. The LED glare is harsh and sudden. The late fall dampness is terrible. The rain never seems to let up. Everything is soggy and sticky. It's a miserable time of year. The restaurants along this street are still doing brisk business. Everyone on their way home from work and shirking the duty of cooking. Takeout is the quick option and takes much less mental fortitude to prepare. I duck along the vinyl overhangs to stay out of the worst of the drizzle like the most mundane version of Frogger.

I caught a whiff of curry from a doorway and ducked inside. I'm no better than the others dodging dinner duty for the night I realize. The idea of tucking myself into cozy pajamas with Indian food and hot tea and couch rotting for the evening was a convincing enough argument. This kind of weather is perfect for not being productive. Especially after having your soul sucked out for eight hours in an inner office lit with only the overhead fluorescents that I'm sure are contributing to an early death. Whoever designed the modern office space should be tried for war crimes.

Bag in hand, I try to duck over it to keep it from getting completely soaked. I'll already have to nuke it since there is no way I'm not taking a blazing hot shower as soon as I get through my door to knock the chill out of my body. The idea of hot water motivates me to move just a bit faster while pondering why I haven't packed my bags and migrated. My shoes are starting to feel damp. Damn. Normally the walk home is soothing and I can meander while letting go of the corporate persona I carefully build each morning. It's a grounding exercise. Days like today not so much.

There's an alley ahead that I use as a shortcut when I'm late in the mornings (frequently) or when the weather is terrible (also, unfortunately, frequently). I duck around the corner and into the blessedly emptier walkway. The buildings shield some of the rain though the puddles still soak my shoes. Small wins. I'll take it.

I keep fantasizing about a South American beach resort where there are only two seasons- tourist season and not tourist season. I'm not picky. I can live with the constant threat of a coup or pickpockets as long as the sun keeps shining and it's warm. I should really start taking vacation during winter to those warm places. I fear if I went though, I'd never get back on the plane to come home. Find me a cabana boy and settle down as the world's worst waitress at a tiki bar. A girl can dream.

The alley ends a half block from my building. I can see the green door through the slightly hazy fog that is hanging around. Sanctuary and that hot shower within reach. Apparently so am I. I'd forgotten the warnings that had been on the news and radio the last couple of days. Dammit. Winter Solstice is coming up in a couple weeks and the locals had gotten bold. Every year. We do this every year. I'm not careless. I know how this works. The hand had been quick and covered my mouth as they pulled me sideways into a doorway.

I struggled knowing it wouldn't likely help but I had to do something. Resignation to my fate seemed like it would be the wrong reaction without a token attempt at escape. Once my food was in danger of being spilled, I stopped. I mean, they would let me eat. They weren't complete heathens. I looked to see who held me and saw a damp, blond haired Sidhe eyeing me. I shook my head and patted his arm. He definitely looked confused. He gripped my arm but uncovered my mouth slightly. "You're supposed to fight me and scream," he almost asks. "Eh," I say, "I know the routine. Kidnapping by you lot isn't the worst thing that could happen." He looks even more confused.

"Have you ever worked in an office for 8 hours a day with no end in sight except retirement or death? And frankly, my bets are on death first with the way inflation is going." I sigh. "I know you're going to tell me how horribly I'll be treated and that you're taking me away from my life and everything familiar, but as long as you let me bring my food and take a shower when we get there, I'm game. I know that the threats are exaggerated and you're not nearly as bad as the propaganda that's put around." He looks absolutely put out that the struggle seems to be over and that he never got to terrorize me. I pursed my lips, "And really I never belonged here anyway."

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