An hour and thirteen minutes after the dismissal bell rang, and Dwicky finished his paper work. He was nearly finished with it all when Gretchen decided to pull off her ultimate offense. Five more forms were then shoved his way. One the good side, the school will be getting at least 10,000 bucks after this.

Once every file was tucked in its folder and the room was tidied, he grabbed his coat and sling-bag then headed out. he locked his office and shuffled down the hall into the main office. Mr. Truman, the custodian, was wiping down the finger smudged windows Mrs. Mindough was also readying to leave.

"Goodnight Mrs. M, "Dwicky said warmly as he passed through.

"Goodnight " she replied, just as warm.

The temperature was neutral, but the clouds over head suggested rain. it was only four thirty one, butthe clouds coaxed driver to turn on their headlights and to tip their lawn chairs. Dwicky sauntered across the park with his jacket slut over his shoulder and his bag knocking against him. He quickly punched in the keycode to his royal blue pickup and entered,his bag next to him and his jacket atop his bag. With a loud purr, the truck started, but after after, it made barely more than a contempt humm. It felt stuffy then, so Dwicky rolled down the window in time to catch Mr. Elliot exiting his own, quaint car.

" 'Evening Elliot!" Dwicky called.

"Hey, Dwicky!" he called back.

"Is there a meeting tonight or something?" He asked, one arm restong on the windows fram.

"Yeah. Wouldn'nt you know it? On a Friday! Just gotta come to this student aid meeting, y'know?" he said with faint shrug.

"Ah, yeah, those. Good luck with that."

Elliot waved his hand dismissively with a 'psh', "I've been doing this for years. It's cake!"

Both men shared a chuckle and then once again, bid their goodbyes. If it weren't for the fact that there were counselours for each greade, it would be him in there for the meeting. He is, however, the counselour for the eleventh grade. Elliot was there with the tenth grade counselors for reasons he couldn't figure out.

As Dwicky thought about this, he suddenly felt a pang of dissapointment. Ther was something about Elliot he liked. Perhaps it wa his great charisma, or patience, knowledge, kindness, gentleness, his great cooking skill, or most likely, how he knew how to cuddle with him on those nights when they watched Oxygen.

Dwicky felt a chill run down his chest and quickly searched for something else to occupy his mind. Before long, he was thinking over his paper work and the cases. Alot of them were just bullying issues. Other delt with family problems. Dib came in every once in a while, but hewouldn't even cooperate in teh slightest. It was his job to pry and attempt to make him feel better, but he was a year and a half away from the real world wher if you don't share or don't want to, nobody cares.

Withen minutes he was leaving city boundries and driving into its outskirts. It wasn't quite country, more ofjust desert suburbia. A few miles off from there, an apartment complex stood tall and braod in almost nowhere land. Designed back in 2028, it was suppose to look modern futuristic. It wa nearly nothing more than a cement block with red and blue iron doors with cascaded glass side windows. The roof had points and pitch in seemingly odd places and the windows were narrow and long or tall. Gravel surrounded the building, still as white as bone. Small populars waved at the entrance of the lod and around its edges. A willow swayed on either side of the tidy building and lush grass danced across the property. The back was nothing more than a small strip of grass outlined with red mulch and more populars. A stone birdbath was all that decored.

Dwicky pulled into his usual parking spot, just as he did, large drops of rain committed suicide on his windsheild. Instantly his windsheild wipers activated and his window rolled up. For a few moments, he only sat where he was, the radio played softly and hsi vehicles engine purred. He finally killed the ignition but remained sitting. Larger drops splattered on any exposed object, thuner rolled in the distance.

He grabbed his bag and opened his door, making sure to avoid knocking his head on the way out. Quickly he shut the door and sprinted to the double doors, hoping he wouldn't get too wet. There was no such luck for him. The rain grew heavier once he reached the midpoint between his truck and the doors. He cursed to himself, pulling the jacket over him like an umbrella. He reached the doors, pulling them open and hurring inside. Once there, he looked down the empty, silent corridor, four cobolt blue door on each side, a crimson carpet down it's length and cement stairs. The burnt-pumpkin coloured walls made teh smell of Heldas apple pie all the more irresistable. He made a mental note to stop by her shoppe and pick some up.

He climbed up the tairs, his sfot footsteps sounding more like stomping, thank to the lonely silance. He passed through the floor two with its navy carpet, crimson doors and it's deep storm-blue walls. Each floor had it's own set of colours, so floor three was a beige hall with mocha doors and forest carpet. This was the floor he hoped had the opening when he first arrived, but instead, level four had the open space. This floor had an aomost purple magenta carpeting and purple walls with grey doors. It seemed like the most out of place of all halls. The owner of the building had an interestng taste in design, but none of the residants complained. It worked.

Dwicky slid his key into the slot, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the hall, pausing to tak it in. Despite the rain, the area still helds its beauty. Most people would worry about developments obstructing the view and area around teh building, but they didn't know about how Isolde, the buildings owner, bought out the land five acres on either side adn all the way back to the barbed wire fencing too far back to see from the apartment complex. The fence was the border between the scenic desert like scrub area Georgia O'Keef would of adored and teh sudden, tall waving sea of golden waist length grass behind it. Next to the fence in the property of the farmer was a dirt path that ran parallel to the fencing until a yard before an old weeping willow came up and bent the path inwards between the walls of grass and over the hill. He knew of this because he'd once travele back that far, viewing the land in awe. Just behind the fifteen acre walls of golden waist-high grass lay a small thicket, then the mountains. To his left, the land just kept going and going along the mountains until it dissapeared on the horizon. To his right, you could barely see the top of the farmers home and barn on the other side of the hill where the path steepened. he photoed this once and sent it to a releative to painted. She painted this and ended up making around 2,000 dollars on the work of art. Both vowed to keep the location a secret to keeps it's beauty untapped, and so of course other painters wouldn't come around and do similar painting, lowering the value of her own. Call it selfish, or call it good marketing and beauty preservation.

When the locked clicked, he turned the knob and entered, shutting the door and this memory of that past spring out in the hallway. There was work to do.

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