By Stew Pid

Rating: Should be okay

Disclaimer: I only own the Stew Pid stuff

A/N: Some of the Gilmore Girls characters reflect on wood. No, this isn't some New Age, return-to-animism type thing. It's actually more normal than it sounds, or as normal as I'm capable of. I dedicate this story in loving memory to my beloved Chamomile.

Luke is cleaning out his closet.

Damn it! How did all this junk steadily accumulate in here? Jess. There's an answer. What can you do? When you have to start throwing out your old junk to make more room for the other person's junk, you know the arrangement is permanent. Ah. Here are the notorious baseballs. Better return them tomorrow.

He pulls out the baseballs and a bunch of things fall over, something hitting him on the head.

Geez. What the heck was that? Oh. This. Fifty-two fifty I paid for this. What on earth was I thinking? Well, she was in a jam. But my God, fifty-two fifty? For two Pop-tarts and a Slim Jim? Not to mention the added costs for the lunch we actually ate. I'm too good…Not good enough, though. I mean, who am I kidding? I'd 'ave paid a hundred if I had to. And anyway, other people paid more. I suppose I lucked out that day. It was the closest thing to a date I'll ever get with her. No, I suppose fifty-two fifty wasn't bad at all…

I hope those Pop-tarts and the Slim Jim aren't still in here. No. It's empty. Guess it was all empty, wasn't it? I mean, in hard fact, it was just another incident of good ol' pal Luke coming to the rescue, and two friends having lunch afterwards. Nothing special. Not to her. She's waiting for "someday." Well, my "someday" was that day. But how's she supposed to know that anyway? I haven't told her, and while that usually doesn't stop news from spreading in this town, they probably wouldn't know to tell her either. Anyway, I've already consigned myself to being alone. We wouldn't work anyway. We're both too stubborn and too stuck in our ways, and she deserves better. I don't need the headache, and the heartache. I'm fine being alone. I prefer it. But then, I'm not alone. I wouldn't be cleaning this closet if I were alone. I wouldn't be returning these baseballs if I were alone. I put the milk in one spot of the fridge and I find it in another. I have to wait every morning to take a shower. Funny thing is, it hasn't bothered me as much as I thought it would. Maybe I've evolved a little from the lone-wolf. So what? That still doesn't mean it'd work. And I haven't evolved. I'm still the same Luke. I do what I have to when lending a hand. I took Jess in. I bought the stupid basket. But in the end, it'll all winds up the same. Empty, alone again. That's my life, and I'm fine with it.

He tosses the wicker basket into the garbage.

A/N: I didn't mention before that this is my first POV and I am quite frightened. It's hard to step into another person's mind. Crazy as my mind is, I'm rather used to it. And Luke has to be the hardest…who am I kidding, they're all hard. Well, I'm trying out new things. It was going to come to this eventually.