This story is definitely not one of my best and all of the chapters are extremely short, which I apologize about, but where they end seems to be the right places for the cliff hangers. Just bare with me please. I'm usually a really good writer, or at least that what I like to think, but I just felt like writing a not-up-to-status-quo story. I hope you enjoy!
Waking up at seven every morning had become a routine for her after the first month and a half of traveling with the Obama campaign. She'd set her alarm and get out of bed the first time it went off. Managing to want to wake up early was probably the only trait Rory didn't get from her mother.
After washing up and choosing her sophisticated outfit for that day of her new life as a professional journalist she would go to whatever cute coffee house she had scouted her first night after arriving in the new city. Finishing her meal at approximately 8:45 she would arrive back at the rendezvous scheduled for that day just in time to be the first one there, abnormally early as always.
The meetings and press conferences always proceeded pretty much the same and there was no even that stood out in her mind from the others, not that she didn't enjoy them all. She did. Rory was absolutely stupefied by her new life and loved every minute of it.
One evening after Rory and the other journalists traveling with her arrived in Chicago she decided that she needed a small stray from her usual ritual. Instead of looking for a quaint coffee shop she decided to find a bar. After ordering herself a shot of tequila, Rory took a seat at the bar and scanned her surroundings. Her eyes landed on the stage where a man her age was performing and she began to bob her head with the rhythm. She noticed that the singer never once looked up. He was always staring at his guitar as if he learned the cords by site. Finally, when the song finished, and there was only one more line to be sung, he looked out into the audience and Rory gasped at the familiar face.