The time was 3:57pm. Trent lugged a briefcase through the Center for the Arts, a very common sight for Humber's film students.

He hefted the briefcase onto the counter, surprising the dark-haired girl who was catching up on her reading. He placed his student ID alongside it, verifying his identity.

"Just made it."

The girl turned behind her to the clock on the wall. "Indeed you did." The girl opened the case. "Bolex camera, check. Light meter, check."

"I'm pretty trustworthy."

She narrowed her eyes. "So every guy holding one of these says."

Trent pursed his lips. He'd heard whispers of an on-campus urban legend about how a film student shot an old-fashioned amateur porno with his (almost certainly, once news of this got out, ex-) girlfriend. He never thought it was based in fact.

The girl closed the case and slid Trent's ID back to him. "Get any good shots?", she said in an implicatory tone.

"Yes, I did."

The girl snorted. "Come again, soon."

Trent simply turned on his heel and walked away. The shutter of the room closed behind him. He shrugged. On the one hand, he'd hoped that she'd learn to trust again. On the other, he felt it better to be thought of as a pervert than a psychotic.

Trent dropped a package into the mailbox. The two weeks off of work allowed him to complete his short film assignment. In mere days, the raw footage would come back, fully developed.

Trent whipped out his phone. He hit speed-dial and waited for the other party to pick up.

"Hello." Even when worn-out and ragged, Gwen's voice was melodious.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Very little. Certainly not me."

"Why not?"

"Having to run back to your room because you forgot your chemistry notes does that to a person."

"I'm sorry. And here I was hoping to see a movie."

"Maybe, you can tell me about it when we get a minute alone?"

"It's not gonna be the same without you."

"Come on. It's not like you've never not gone to the movies with someone."

"Well, no, but that's not the point."

A strained yawn cut him off. "Sorry. I need to go. Love you. See you tomorrow." Having been just as tired himself every now and then, he knew that Gwen's last bit of energy had been utilized on that string of words.

Trent pocketed his phone and sighed. As he headed for Pizza Pizza, he couldn't help but feel an emptiness inside of him.

It was a regular day on campus. The wind blew gently but coolly.

Gwen had had a restful night. She slept a good ten hours. Despite her disagreement with her mother's advice, it proved to be helpful. She just digested her plain donut as she marched across campus.

Her pace slowed as she saw the swarm of black-clad figures around Lindon Hall.

Gwen hurried to a small group of students under a tree. She tapped one on the shoulder. "What's going on?"

"Bomb squad."

"There could be a bomb in there!"

"Or someone called in a bomb threat. They might think it's funny, but some of us want to get our shit done right away, so we won't have to do it later on."

Gwen glanced up at Lindon. Her next two classes were in there. Who knows how long the squad would take. She figured that she could either wait around for them to finish, or she could head elsewhere. After all, they might be finished with but five minutes to go for her second class.

She charged for the bus stop, the second option firmly set in her mind.

The bus pulled up to Eaton Centre. Gwen disembarked, along with a pair of old ladies. Gwen had attempted to chat them up, but one was more interested in sleeping, while the other was deeply involved in a game of Angry Birds on her phone.

Gwen pulled out her own phone and dialed. It rang a good eight times as she made her way across the parking lot. Her smile was slowly fading away.

"Hello?"

"What's the matter with you? I thought you were dead."

"Sorry. I got called back to Sobey's early. I just made it back for my break."

"Oh. Sorry."

"So, how have you been?"

"There's a bomb in Lindon Hall or someone called in a bomb threat. We don't know for sure. In any event, class is cancelled."

"Good for you."

"I'm at Eaton Centre. I'm following a lead on some fabric."

"Well, good luck."

"And what about you? You catch a movie last night?"

"Yeah. A Very Harold and Kumar Christmas."

"How was it?"

"Nuts, but pretty funny." Trent had originally planned to see Tower Heist, but seeing that the film was playing in screening room nine put paid to that plan.

"Well, I don't want to take you away from your break. See you tomorrow."

"See you."

Gwen pocketed her phone as she made her way to the entrance. She threw the door open, annoyed at how she and Trent missed each other again.

Nothing left to do but wait until tomorrow.

"...and in 1949, Trudeau worked as an economic policy advisor in the Privy Council Office under then-Prime Minister Louis St. Laurent. This two year period served him well when he decided to enter politics later on."

As Professor Hamilton continued to orate, about a third of the students took notes. Much of the rest of them were texting or catching forty winks.

Among the texters was Trent, who felt confident that he could retain the information without having to pay much attention.

Under his desk, he mashed the keypad with amazing dexterity.

'hey'

It took a few moments to get a response, but ultimately, it came.

'hey'

Trent chuckled as he continued to type.

'whats happening with you'

'im stuck in class and extra work to make up for yesterday'

'that sucks'

'so much'

'u think we could get together 2nite'

'i dont think ill be up for anything'

'i miss seeing u'

'me too'

'talk to u later'

'bye'

'bye'

Trent pocketed his phone. A day of classes and a night alone. Hardly the kind of life he envisioned with Gwen.

Today was Thanksgiving...at least, in the States. The amount of American students that attended Humber represented no more than 17%, all of whom had left for the airports last night. That aspect of the American holiday mattered little to Gwen.

What mattered to her is that her boss Vicky was, by now, already at her New Jersey home. She mused on this as she sat in her history class.

Her phone buzzed, breaking Gwen out of her reverie. She excused herself and made her way out of the classroom.

"Hello?"

"Gwen, we need you to come in tonight." It was Delia, an executive assistant.

"Seriously? Why?"

"Some of the footage needs to be reshot. You know Brianne?"

"Yeah?"

"She got arrested late last night. DUI."

Gwen rolled her eyes. Brianne was best known for playing "Pascal High's" teetotaling good girl Wilma. "And what does that have to do with me?"

"Some of the producers were thinking, as long as they were changing things around, maybe you could give them some new designs." Gwen squeezed the phone in her hand and kicked at the air.

"Is Vicky flying back up here?"

"Of course not. She's videoconferencing from her house."

"All right. I'll be there."

"Wonderful. See you then." Gwen threw her head back, almost as if she wanted to scream. Instead, she dialed on her phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Trent. Bad news about tonight."

Gwen sat at the bus stop, her backpack beside her. It was starting to get chilly out there and the bus wouldn't be there for another 15 minutes. Gwen shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. A horn honked not far from her. She glanced up.

"Milady. Your chariot awaits."

Gwen perked up.

Trent really liked his Chevrolet Epica. Roomy. Dependable. Inexpensive. The one thing he didn't like about it was what he was currently facing - traffic.

Gwen turned to him from the passenger seat. "How were you even able to pull this off? I thought you had to work."

"I moved my schedule around. This is supposed to be my lunch break."

"Are you sure you'll make it back in time? I thought you were on probation."

"I am. I just want to make sure you get there safe. I figure, this way, at least one of us will have a job." 17 minutes left on his break. It'd be a close one.

Gwen bit her lip. Initially, she appreciated how self-sacrificing Trent was acting...until she remembered the last time this happened. Just as the traffic started to budge, she opened her mouth to speak. "Trent, it's not that I don't appreciate this, but-"

"Gwen, please don't bring up that show."

"It's just that-"

"The show is bullshit, smegma, squadoo. Can we just not mention it?!"

Gwen sank in her seat. "I'm sorry." She brought her head back up, an offended look on her face. "No, you know something? I'm not sorry. I really don't like what that show - hell, just the mention of it - does to you. It's like you're not the same person. Do you even still play the guitar?"

Trent simply stared ahead. "I'm sorry I freaked out."

"That's okay." The cars moved, drawing attention away from the awkwardness of their silence. "Thank you for the ride."

"You're welcome." Trent sighed. "I felt like I had to do this. We've barely seen anything of each other this week. I'm almost afraid we'll end up seeing less and less of each other until one day, I miss a call from you. I don't hear anything for a while, then I find out you've been creamed by a truck." There was a haunted urgency to Trent's words. "I don't want that to happen."

"You make it sound like the universe is conspiring to keep us apart."

"It did, before." Gwen glanced out the window. "I just feel like I got lucky with another chance at this relationship. I don't want to blow that."

"Trent, as long as you don't hit me, lie to me or throw me under the bus when you crash a car, I think we'll be fine."

"I'm pretty sure I can avoid all of those things."

Gwen smiled as she glanced ahead. The production offices of Blue Leaf Studios came up at the end of the block. "Well, that's me." Gwen grabbed her backpack and hopped out. She bussed Trent on the cheek.

"Let me know if you need a ride back."

"I will." Gwen closed the door behind her and strolled toward the building. Trent reached over and pulled the door shut. He pulled back into traffic, a warm feeling overcoming him.

There were only so many available slots for which to utilize the editing room this late in the year. Thankfully, Trent registered this afternoon slot the day his footage was sent in the mail.

Having only received the package a half-hour ago, he knew he had to act fast.

Very few films were edited on Moviolas these days, so Trent and his classmates didn't understand why they had to use them, but they adapted as best as they could.

Trent spooled his footage, attaching the loose end to an empty reel. His phone rang before he could turn the Moviola on. He was sure he'd turned it off.

He answered. "Hello?"

"Hey!"

"Gwen. How are you?"

"Just about to get some lunch. Trent, I thought about what you said last night."

"What was that?"

"We don't get to spend too much time together. Then it hit me. Why don't we visit each other's families for the holidays?"

Trent paled. "Our...families?"

"Yeah. You can meet mine, then I can meet yours. I would suggest meeting yours first, but Mom's gonna insist we spend Christmas together and who knows how long she'll want us to stay after that. Trent?"

"Yeah. I'm here. That sounds good."

"Well, I have some free time tonight. Pizza Pizza?"

"I'll be there. Seven?"

"Awesome. See you."

"See you." Trent hung up. He exhaled. This was going to be an interesting holiday season.

Fun fact: Around the time I put up chapter 2, I had this chapter ready to go, then I ended up having to redo it from memory. From my lips to God's ears, I promise that if I ever find any of the c-words responsible for the Cryptowall 2.0 virus, I'll make them wish they were never born.