Step one was a pinch: brief and sharp. Step two was easy. Find a place to settle, and stay low. Step three was ecstasy. Let it roll over you in waves of familiarity and forget about Gotham. Forget about Richie. Forget about how many IOUs were nestled away in Danny's pocket. Just breathe… And be.
"Miss? Did you want more coffee?" The chipper waitress stood over Charlie Issac's table, coffee pot hovering above her empty mug. Charlie jumped slightly, roused from her memory and nodded hastily, her attention turned once more to her textbook. The server huffed lightly and poured the coffee, before hastily making her way back to the kitchen.
A History of Forensic Psychology and Criminal Behavior sat heavily in front of Charlie's empty plate, the harsh black print of chapter 15 burned under her eyelids. After reading the same paragraph four times in a row, Charlie let her breath out in an exasperated puff and slammed the book shut. She stood abruptly at her table and slapped a $20 bill into the table, stuffing the textbook into her backpack as she exited Mary's Diner and charged into the rain outside. The downpour quickly soaked her clothing now clinging to slender figure. She sighed and made her way quickly to the bus stop on 5th street, streams of water running down her face like tears.
Under the crowded shelter of the bus stop, Charlie eased her way in between an exhausted looking pregnant woman and a gnarled old man. Pulling her bag into her lap, she unlatched the leather top and peered inside, assessing the water damage to her book. From what she could see, all of the pages were damp and already wrinkling badly. She hissed harshly under her breath, reaching down to brush the tops of the pages with her long fingers. Jesus Charlie, practice a little caution, would ya? Charlie scoffed inwardly at herself. It's not like she could predict the weather.
Setting the bag down, she stood to take off her wet hoodie, which was now hugging her frame like an extra layer of freezing skin. Unfortunately, as one might know, an article of wet clothing no matter the material is especially difficult to remove. So as Charlie wrestled the jacket from her torso and the bus squealed up to the stop, she failed to notice the lack of patrons on the vehicle. When she turned to grab her book bag from the bench, she failed to notice the terrified faces of her fellow stop mates. Rummaging around in the bag as she stepped on the bus and the doors screeched shut behind her, she failed to see the grin-sporting driver. Who in turn, failed to understand why this seemingly intelligent girl had failed to notice him, the grin-sporting driver.
And that's how Charlie's life took a turn for the funny. Just a simple misunderstanding.