"Is this for real?" Taryn whispered in Chance's ear. "I mean, like actually?"

Chance sat back in the stiff, leather chair and tipped his head up to the ceiling. The ornate wood patterns were coated with a thin layer of dust, the kitchen table sized chandelier illuminating the individual grey flecks. He could here the crackling of wood in the fireplace behind him. He looked past the polished wood desk in front of him and out the huge, full wall windows. Giant fluffy snow flakes drifted lazily down between the fir trees, tall white piles heaping up on the branches, swaying precariously in the December wind. He might miss Professor Wellington's office a bit, but the freezing winter days?

Somehow he didn't think so.

He glanced down at stacks of paper on the desk, one in front of himself, and one in front of Taryn. The infinite lines of miniscule type stared up at him from the harshly white printer paper. It was true. This was really happening.

"This is for real Taryn." He shifted his hand slightly on the arm of his chair so his finger tips touched hers.

"We're going to California. We're going to Caltech."