Disclaimer: Yeah, so it's been a while since I did one of these things. I don't own anything, save for a few of my original characters… even some of those own themselves… So yeah, I'm just writing it all down for you. Enjoy!

Rosa clutched at the baseball bat that her father had packed in with her things the day she left for college. Not because he was sure she was going to become the next female athlete star, but because he said the best revenge was to disable someone and taunt them as you awaited further help. She was to aim for the knees.

She knew Ella was home, but how heavy a sleeper she was or what kind of self-protection she was in possession of was unknown to her at this point. So when she heard the clear signs of someone breaking into their room, she slid the baseball bat silently out from underneath her bed and crept over to the door. She checked the clock, seeing it was just past three in the morning, something the cops should want to know, she was sure, and then the door popped open. Whoever was doing the job was good—she figured it'd taken them no time at all to pop this supposedly secure lock.

She raised the bat up, not caring now what part of the body she hit, as the door opened to reveal Ambrose. He jumped back into the hall, his eyes wide with terror.

"Jeeez," he griped. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Me? Why are you picking my lock in the middle of the night?"

"I don't have a key," he reminded.

"That's why you come back with everyone else," she pointed out. "Or go break into the guys' room."

"All my stuff's here, with Jake's. And I am not sleeping in the hall, either," he said. They were silent for a brief moment. "You gonna let me in?"

"You broke my lock—anyone could come in here now. I should make you stay in the hall, as a bodyguard."

"I'll fix it in the morning, and protect you in the meantime," he promised, a smile covering his face.

"You know how to fix it?"

He nodded and crossed his pointer finger over his heart. "I do my best work when rested, so," he trailed off.

"What were you even doing out so late?" she huffed, clearly not ready to let him go to sleep, let alone come into the suite. She was still holding up the baseball bat in the middle of the doorway.

"I was out."

"With whom?"

He scratched his head. "I didn't catch her name."

"Pig," she drew the bat back, as if she was going to take a swing at him. He jumped back a bit.

"Jeez," he began. "I wasn't planning on a repeat, what's the point of wasting the brain space?"

"That is the vilest thing I've ever heard anyone say."

He shrugged. "Why are you so upset—first of all, I know your name, and second of all, just what was your date's name?"

"How'd you know I had a date?" she asked defensively.

"I saw you with him, at the party," he shrugged. "He does have a name, right?"

"Justin," she said sullenly.

He wasn't quite able to hold back his laughter. She glared at him in the pale light from the distant hallway emergency light that never shut off.

"What?"

"So, this Justin, he's a soul mate?"

"That's not my point."

"Oh, you have a point. Let's hear it, then," he encouraged, his eyes sparking up.

"My point is, you can't just go around, dating nameless girls and dragging your ass home at three in the morning, and breaking into your friends' rooms. You'll end up living in a cardboard box, with no friends and no life."

"God, it's not like this is the sixth night this week that I've done this," he began. "In fact, I've never done this before. And you still haven't given me a real reason as to why you're so pissed off. I promised to fix your door, what more do you want from me?"

"Nothing," she said sharply. "Here," she handed him the baseball bat and turned to go back to her room.

He followed her instantly, using the bat as something to squeeze between his hands. "So, is this what it's gonna be like?"

She turned, a bit surprised to see he'd followed her right into her room and shut the door. "What are you doing?"

"Answer me."

She sighed. "What what's gonna be like?"

"If I come to school here. Are you gonna get this pissy every time I have a date, even if you have one too?"

"Since when are you coming to Yale?" she put him off.

"I have a meeting tomorrow," he breathed. "With the Dean of Admissions. You know, see if I should even bother," he shrugged.

"Because of me?"

He looked at her for a long moment. "That's a loaded question."

She shrugged. "Is it?"

He tossed the bat on her bed. "I never really thought I could get into a place like this. It was always some place that Jake and Ella were going to go, but me," he shook his head. "You kind of got me thinking. I don't want to end up being stuck in a job I hate, or having to work myself out of a hole. Going to a place like this, it'd give me options that I wouldn't have otherwise."

She nodded. "Very true."

"But if I come here, I'd like to think that you aren't going to be on my case, every time I hit a party or whatever. I mean, it's not like you're Suzy Schoolgirl, either."

"You shouldn't let me affect your decision about anything," she swallowed, realizing that in the course of arguing, they'd stepped much closer to the other.

He nodded and held his ground. "Then you shouldn't alter your plans for me, either."

She shook her head. "Right. We don't affect the other in any way, shape, or form. We're just friends, right?"

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes—of course. So, we're clear, then?"

She hoped she at least sounded convincing—she sure didn't feel convincing. She might have even leaned a bit closer to him as she spoke. She made a mental note not to ever have serious post-3am chats with this person ever again. She looked up to see that he was smiling—taunting her?

" Crystal."

"Good. So, how are things?" she tossed off casually.

"School starts next week," he offered. "It's the first time I won't have Jake around, so that'll be weird."

"You guys are pretty close, huh?" she offered.

"He's like a brother to me," he looked at her in all seriousness.

"Yeah," she breathed. "You think you'll go visit him much?"

"Dad's talking about maybe going down, as a family sometime. But it's kind of far, not like here; I can just hop on a train and get here."

She nodded, her mouth feeling rather dry suddenly. "Yeah, but you won't have much time, I mean, if you're gonna get your grades up. Then you and Jake can maybe both come to Yale, and it'll be like you were never apart. The last couple years of high school go by fast."

He nodded, clearly contemplating something. She was sure he was going to ask her something, but he just took a step backward. "I should get to sleep. The couch is fine, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah, fine."

"Okay. Night."

"Night," she frowned.

And he did just as he said he would, quietly exiting her room and protecting the suite from intruders other than himself.

XXXX

Jess woke up to someone clutching him. He opened his eyes to see Gwen staring at him, wide-eyed in terror.

"What's wrong? The baby?"

"I'm going to be a terrible mother."

"What?" he asked, still clutching at the remains of sleep that fogged over his eyes.

"I was having this dream, that I was trying to sleep, but the baby wouldn't quit crying, so I put it in a drawer! A drawer! I'm going to be a terrible mother!"

Jess did his best not to laugh, but he lost. "You won't do that," he offered.

"I really like my sleep," she defended her dream.

"Okay, so I'll rescue the kid from the drawer," he said.

"This isn't funny. I've never really been around little kids—never babies."

"We all have to learn sometime—and if I could do it, then you're practically a natural."

"This isn't the first dream," she bit her lip. He sat up a bit more, but wasn't sure he needed to turn a light on yet.

"What?"

"I've had others. I left the baby in a shopping cart at the market. I took all my groceries, and left the kid at the market!"

"Like in Mr. Mom?" he tried to lighten her desperation.

"The next dream? We were looking for apartments, and we bought a studio."

Jess turned on the light. "We'd kill each other with a baby in a studio."

Gwen made a noise of acknowledgement. "Well, evidently that didn't matter to us, since we were gonna ship the kid off to some boarding school."

He put his arms around her and pulled her form against his. He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her nose, then softly, her lips. "Were there any more?"

"Just this last one."

"The drawer."

She nodded into him.

"What are you really afraid of?" he asked simply.

A sigh and a period of settling down into his arms followed. By the time she started smoothing down the covers over them, she found her voice. "You've been so great."

"But you'd like me to stop?"

"No," she shook her head. "I don't know."

"Look, Gwen, you're allowed to be imperfect. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's expected. That's why their memories aren't hardwired for the first few years—all your 'learning how to do this' screw-ups are forgotten, otherwise we'd all be in therapy for the duration of our lives."

She sniffled and laughed at once. "Don't make me laugh. I'm serious."

"So am I—therapy should be reserved for those of us with truly incapable parents."

"It happened to you, it could happen to this one," she put her hand on her still rather normal-looking stomach.

"It won't happen to this one," he said sternly.

"I'm sure your parents thought that, too, Jess, but things happen."

He turned and looked at her, no hint of sarcasm in his features. "My parents never gave one thought that didn't involve themselves. Which is why my dad split on the first diaper run, and my mother was too interested in getting the bong lit."

Gwen winced and put her hand through his hair. Jess took her hand gently in his.

"I made a promise, to each of my kids, the very first time I held them. I told them that no matter what happened, I was going to be there for them. I will be making the same promise to this one," he said. "All you have to do is want this. And when you first look at your own kid," he shook his head. "You won't have any problem."

"I do want this," she promised.

He smiled. "I know you do. And you are great with kids. You're great with my kids."

"Let's go back to sleep," she reached around to turn the light off.

"If you want, I could spend some more time reassuring you," he offered as she attempted to move over to her side of the bed.

"The baby needs rest," she poked him as he wrapped his body around hers.

"See? You're a natural," he assured, kissing her neck before coming to rest up against her to finish out the night in peace.

XXXX

Lorelai was already up when Luke rose out of bed that Sunday morning. He was not opening the diner this morning, and normally on a Sunday morning Lorelai was happy to lounge in bed with him until he had to get up.

"What's going on?"

"Michel's still on vacation," she whispered. "I have to go in for a few hours, go back to sleep."

"No, no—if I don't get up now, I won't see you 'til tonight," he scratched his head.

"I promise I'll still recognize you after work. Unless Kevin Bacon comes into the Inn," she smirked.

He sighed. "He is on the top of your list," he commented.

"The laminated version," she nodded with a wicked smile.

"There's more than one?"

"I have a few back-ups scratched down, should one of my laminated boys kick off unnaturally."

"Well, Kevin Costner is getting up there," he admitted. "Who would take his place?"

"Well, I've decided that if my old men kick off, there's no use in filling their absence with someone else that might meet a similar end. So my back up list consists of men that are ridiculously too young for me—but who would find me irresistibly sexy, of course."

"Who wouldn't?" Luke played along.

"Exactly. I mean, I just need the time to put the same kind of time into them that I have into the old standards."

"I see. You do enjoy your list."

"I'd enjoy it more if I ever saw any celebrities," she grinned wickedly.

"Did you have a list, before we got married?"

She looked up from her shoe, which she was trying to fasten. "What do you mean?"

"Well, that list is a list of guys that you're theoretically allowed to sleep with, with no consequences, therefore, you wouldn't need a list like that if you weren't married."

"I like how you say theoretically. It's cute."

"I'm serious. If we weren't married," he began.

"Luke, can we talk about this later? I have to get going."

"Sorry, I guess, I'm just still thinking of the news thing," he shook his head, not wanting to push her.

"Yeah," she frowned, not wanting to let on that it's all she'd been able to think of all night as well. She'd only been able to think about what exactly she'd put her own kid through, the first time around. While Rory had always been a perfectly wonderful child, not without more than her share of love, she always hated that she hadn't been able to provide a father for her. When Luke looked at her with concern, she just smiled and moved to kiss him. "I'll see you tonight."

"Say hello to Kevin for me," he joked.

"Yeah," she nodded and with that, left him alone in the bed.

XXXX

"Hello?"

"Did we wreck our kid?" came her voice of concern as her finger held a lock of her hair captive, twirling and pulling it in shapes around the digit.

"Who is this?"

"Chris, stop. I'm serious."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the Inn. Why?"

"Because I'm envisioning having to come and administer tranquilizers. Quickest routes and all."

"I'm not joking."

"Is Rory okay?"

"Yes, she's fine, it's just, I've been thinking—I mean, a kid should have a mother and a father. What if all this time, you were right, or—God—my mother was right? What if I should have married you when we were kids?"

"As much as I appreciate the offer, I think your husband would mind if we got hitched now for the sake of the kid," he joked.

"You know what I mean," she huffed.

"How much more fabulous could Rory have turned out? What about her life is so troubling to you? Her successful career? Our two wonderful grandchildren? Her husband that treats her so well? You're right. We've completely ruined her."

"But if we'd been married," she sighed.

"As much as I hate to admit it, she didn't need me. She had you, and you were the best role model a girl could have."

"Yes, pregnant at sixteen screams good role model," she shook her head and rearranged a vase of flowers on the front counter.

"I was the one that corrupted you. Had it not been for me, you would have gotten knocked up by the frat boy of your dreams, four years later."

"Aww, Honey, you were the frat boy of my dreams back then," she teased.

"That probably shouldn't make me all warm and fuzzy, should it?"

"I hear nostalgia can do that to you."

"What brought all this on? Is Rory finally going through her rebellious phase? 'Cause I thought that marrying Hartford money was her great defiance of your parenting methods."

"No, honestly, Rory is fine. It's nothing—it's stupid."

"I have no doubts. Come on, fess up."

"I shouldn't have even bothered you. It's just, Luke was ranting last night about this couple on the news, who thought they'd been married for thirty years, only to find out through some paperwork error that they were never officially married."

"O-kay," Chris drawled. "I don't get it."

"They had kids, who rightfully thought their parents were married, when they really weren't. There was nothing stopping them from just doing whatever they wanted that whole time. There was no real binding, no glue."

"They didn't know they weren't married, so where's the harm?" he asked. "Besides, Rory always knew we weren't married. Unless you were just telling her I was on really long business trips," he joked.

"No… I don't know why it bugged me so much. It just, did. Sorry."

"Does this perhaps have anything to do with the fact that Rory and Tristan will be heading to North Carolina tonight?"

She sighed. "Maybe. I'm gonna miss her, you know?"

"She's been in New York all these years," he pointed out.

" New York is an adjoining state," she pointed back.

"What do you want me to say?"

"That it's all gonna be okay?" she asked brightly.

"You still believe it when I say it?" he asked, slightly astonished.

"Old habits die hard," she said in a deadpan tone.

"Everything's gonna be okay."

She smiled genuinely, instantly cheered. "Thanks, Chris."

"Anytime."

XXXX

Amy sighed as Katherine drummed her fingernails on the table. The kids were rolling in ones and twos, as were the adults. All the women had arrived, as well as Tristan. Jake and Ambrose came down together, sitting at the opposite end of the long table that had been set up at the back of the dining room on the first floor of the University Plaza Hotel.

"Where are they?"

Katherine checked her watch. "I'm going up there."

"They'll come down," Miel said calmly, taking a drink of water.

"Are they hung over?" Rory asked.

" Logan's not," Amy said.

"Colin's feeling it."

Katherine said nothing, just continued to strum her fingernails against the table.

"So, um, you're heading to North Carolina today?" Amy turned to Rory.

Rory looked surprised. "Oh, yeah, we are. Tristan's job got transferred, so we came from New York, but we're heading to Raleigh tonight."

"You'll love it down there—my brother lives near Charlotte," she smiled.

"I actually went to UNC for a year," Tristan spoke up. "I loved it down there, the warm weather, the slower pace."

"It can be very relaxing," Amy nodded.

"You don't strike me as the laid back, take an hour to order a meal kind of people," Katherine said.

Rory smiled tightly, and Tristan shrugged. "It'll be an adjustment," he admitted. "But we do love a challenge."

Ella came into the dining room wearing sunglasses and slunk over to a seat next to her brother.

"Clearly," Rory gritted out through her teeth. "Um, Dr. Teeth? What's with the glasses?"

Ella looked up at her mother and sighed. "It's a fashion statement."

Rory opened her mouth to retort, but a groaning sound came from behind them, to reveal Finn almost walking between his two best friends.

"Delivery for Katherine Wellington," Logan smiled. "Don't worry, he's shaved and showered."

"How do they make water so loud?" Finn asked.

"Looks like the alumni dinner was rockin'," Grey said as he came in with Jasper. Jasper clapped his father on the back as they walked back.

"Are you trying to lose your inheritance?" he groaned.

"Geez, cranky," he commented as he sat down. "Oh, good, eggs," he took a plate and began piling food on his plate.

"Dear God," Finn looked downright green.

"You're in a good mood," Katherine said, ignoring her husband.

Jasper looked up to Ella and smiled. "Yeah, I guess so."

Rory noticed the way her daughter was being eyed and saw the upturn of her own lips. "Ella, I need to ask you about something, before we go, can we just," she stood up and half-dragged her daughter out into the hall.

"Mom, slow down," she whimpered.

"Hung over and boys leering at you? Are you freaking kidding me? This isn't Dynasty," Rory ranted.

"What are you talking about? I may have a slight headache, but no one was leering," she sighed. "We were both at this party, and we danced, that's it."

"The Lambada?" Rory asked knowingly. "Ohmigod, I just had a Mrs. Kim flashback," she buried her head into her hands. "Okay, just tell me what is going on."

"Nothing," Ella swore. "We danced, and he said that he really wants to work things out with Pax, which is the most important thing, so I gave him a kiss on the cheek and we parted ways. End of story."

"You encouraged him," Rory said softly.

"What? No, I was just glad that everyone's going to be sensible about this," Ella argued, still not touching her sunglasses.

"Well, honey, when you express your pleasure with your lips, it tends to make boys crazy. Ask your father," she shook her head. "If you want advice, from someone who had her fair share of boy triangle problems, keep any and all touching to handshakes. Avoid direct eye contact, and what ever you do, don't make any decisions when you've been up all night dancing."

Ella lowered her glasses a little to, hopefully, better see her mother. "It was just one dance," she impressed upon her, "not all night."

Rory shook her head and smiled. "Come on, let's get you some mac and cheese to mix in with your biscuits and gravy," she put her arm around her bewildered daughter's shoulders, ready to lead her back into the dining room. Just behind them, Pax came up, chatting away on his cell phone.

He gave them a nod of acknowledgement as he hurried past. "I will call you later. No, it shouldn't take much longer than that—it's not a surprise if I tell you," he smiled, but had the decency to look away from the women when he did. Now past them, they heard only his parting words.

"I can't wait. See you tonight," he snapped his phone shut and slid through the doors to the dining room.

Rory looked to her awe-stricken daughter. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

"Well, it sounded like he was making a date."

"So?"

"Ella, yesterday," Rory began.

Ella turned to face her mother. "Is in the past. We're all moving on, obviously. Including me," she promised. "I'm fine."

Rory nodded and put her arm back around her brave girl, as they walked back into the landmine-filled room.

XXXX

"You're late," Amy said.

"I'm not the last one in," Pax said as Rory and Ella slipped back into the room.

"They've been here," she argued.

"I had to make a phone call, technically, I was on premises on time," he promised.

"Who were you calling?"

"No one, just making a few plans," he shrugged.

"You think you're going out tonight? You still have a head wound," she protested.

"He's fine," Logan assured his wife, but she glared at him.

"Did a doctor tell you that?" she inquired.

"No, but I have eyes. He's standing, breathing, no longer bleeding from the head," Logan looked his son over approvingly.

"If he had a concussion, he wouldn't be moving around today," Tristan piped up, having had one in the past.

Amy glared at him too.

"Sorry," he winced, looking to his wife for support.

"Well, you know how the song goes," Grey spoke up in support of his friend. "You can't keep a good man down."

"Yes, be glad your son at least has plans," Miel comforted Amy, but her gaze was directed at her son.

"And Mom scores one from out of left field," Rosa harped on her brother.

"Don't you have dreams?" Miel asked, still clearly frustrated at her son's lack of inclination toward anything academic past electives and required courses.

"Yes!" he said. "Every night, when I close my eyes," he smirked.

A smirk of that nature earned him a smack.

"I'm serious, you have to have a dream, something that fills you with a sense of purpose," Miel urged.

Grey got quiet for a moment, contemplative, and nodded. "Well, there is something."

Miel perked up, and gripped her husband's hand, ready for her son's finest hour. "What is it?"

He swallowed, stood up, and opened his mouth. "I… I always wanted to be… a lumberjack."

From their seats on the opposite side of the table, his two best friends began to hum the Monty Python favorite, the opening notes softly crescendoing at the ready for him to sing about how he wants to be just like his dear Papa.

Ella couldn't contain her giggles, along with about half of the table and the waiter that had brought in fresh rounds of orange juice and coffee, but Rosa rolled her eyes and yanked her brother down into his seat.

"Don't be an idiot," she grumbled.

"You want to be a funny man, fine," Miel said with finality. "I'm done bugging you. But if you aren't declared as something by next fall, your tuition will be your responsibility."

Grey's mouth opened to protest, but his father shook his head. Now was not the time to discuss the matter further.

"I don't believe they offer Logging as a major at Yale," Finn said finally, as if finally waking out of his haze. It got a smile out of everyone, including Miel, and Katherine simply shook her head and handed him a cup of coffee.

XXXX

"Excellent!" the group leader encouraged. "No hesitation at all," she beamed as Anna helped Will back up to his feet. "Next in line," she ordered.

Dave got up on the small platform and turned to look at Mallory, who stood just down off the edge, at the ready to catch him just as Anna had caught Will.

"You aren't supposed to turn around, Dave," she clearly read his name off his stick-a-tag. "The whole point is to have total faith in your partner."

Mallory tried to keep her knowing smile under wraps, as Dave opened his mouth. "What I have faith in are the laws of gravity and physics. I'm much bigger than she is."

"Love defies logic," she tsked. "Now turn around and cross your arms over your chest."

"This isn't about trusting her," he complained as he did as she said, but failed to fall backward.

"How long have you been married?" the leader sighed.

"A couple of weeks, why?" he asked, now turning back around against orders.

The leader turned to Will and Anna, the first volunteers and therefore the first successful members of the group to have completed the task.

"And how long have you been married?" she inquired.

"One day," Will answered automatically, full of pride and devoid of thought. It was only when he felt the tug of Anna's hand on his sleeve that he felt a pang of realization. He looked up to see Dave's jaw had literally hit the floor, not caring whether Mal was able to catch that or not. Mallory was too intrigued to be worrying about Dave—her eyebrows raised in surprise, excitement, and joy.

They both spoke at once.

"Are you stupid?"

"This is great!"

Dave turned to Mallory. "They didn't tell anyone!" he exclaimed.

"I think it's romantic!" she pointed at them, still smiling. Anna tucked her arm around Will, smiling up at him as he hugged her to him.

"Romantic? They've just committed the crime of the century, but who cares? It's romantic? It's gonna be a bloodier scene than Romeo and Juliet when we get home, but who cares? They're in love, those quirky kids," he went off sarcastically.

"Wait, does this mean you are or aren't registered as married," was the therapist's only concern as the two continued to argue. Will raised his shoulders in uncertainty and looked at her sheepishly. "Uh," he began.

"They were selfish!" Dave yelled.

"It's their life, not their parents' or yours or anyone else's," Mallory quipped in.

"You think this is a good idea?"

The last voice didn't belong to Dave—it was female voice of another couple. Soon, all of the couples were erupting into tiny fires—first disagreeing over whether or not what Will and Anna had done was acceptable, then bursting into larger issues more specific to their own relationships. Soon the whole room was filled with words like, 'money,' 'your mother,' and 'whorebag.' All the while, Will and Anna stood in the middle of it all, next to the floundering therapist, who pulled out a walkie-talkie and requested back-up to conference room C.

XXXX

Coming out the bathroom and finally having taken her sunglasses off after splashing her face with cool water, Ella stopped when she saw Grey coming out of the men's room.

"I know what you're thinking," he nodded.

"Oh, really? Do share," she acquiesced.

"You're thinking we should get this group together more often," he said with all seriousness. "But do you realize the importance of all the people in that room? I mean, these are very busy people, and they can't just drop their lives at the whim of your desire to entertain you on this grand a level every weekend. Perhaps once a month, but even that will take some convincing."

"Yale law," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"You've got a lot of BS in there; it shouldn't go to waste."

He rolled his eyes. "Hand it over."

"What?"

"The cash my mother slipped you."

Ella pushed him softly. "Why won't you just declare something? I mean, it's not like your fate is sealed when you do, lots of people change majors, some have more majors than dates in college."

"That's a travesty, Ms. Dugrey," he shook his head.

"Hey, I'm already ahead of the curve, right?" she boasted.

"Touché," he granted. "I'm just not into labels right now, okay?"

"Trust me, no one will take you seriously enough to get your name engraved on anything," she began. "You've dragged your feet this long. Just keep using words like, 'kind of,' and 'sorta,' when you talk about your certainty of graduating with a degree in Lumberjacking," she winked.

He looked at her, in a way that he hadn't to that point. "I don't want to follow down false paths."

"Oh," she said softly, not having a proper retort. For once he wasn't kidding her, he wasn't making light of either of their situations. He was just being real, and if she detected it correctly, apprehensive of what loomed ahead of him—or what didn't loom ahead of him.

"We should get back. They'll want to start the hugging and crying and carrying on soon."

She smiled at that attempt of normalcy from him, and allowed him to play the proper gentleman, letting her go first.

XXXX

Grey got back to his room that night, alone thanks to his cohorts having had better things to do other than to go back to their room and think. Parents had retreated, off to homes new and old; and interested parties had slipped back where they belonged once security was reinstated at the hands of the guilty and longing. And he was still without a path.

There was a small package propped up against his front door, and he leaned down to see his name scrawled in perfectly neat cursive writing. Taking it in his hands, he peeled back the wrapping and uncovered a copy of Frost's The Road Not Taken.

Smiling to himself, he opened his door, already reading over the familiar verses, and went inside.