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Word prompt: canyon

Plot Generator: Raising the stakes

Not beta'd.

When the musical tones of my alarm register, I swear under my breath, and slap at the snooze button. I hate waking up. It's not that I love sleeping or loathe the day. There's just something so peaceful about a dream state. Maybe it's the lack of meaning to the images in my head, or the shift in focus and interpretation of those images. I couldn't really say with any certainty. I only know I long for those surreal moments where I simply exist without consequences.

My consciousness surfaces as I doze, until I can no longer block out the long day of classes and host of errands that are ahead of me. Mondays are my least favourite day of the week; a Monday brimming with unfamiliar faces and situations is arguably the most beastly variety. I don't do well with meeting new people or making friends; I've never really fit in anywhere. Perhaps today will be the end of that feeling. It's the official go-live date for a new chapter of my life.

I shower and dress, attempting to look nice, and my reflection says I succeeded. My mother's voice is in my head casting doubts that I forsake. "Whatever," I whisper to the mirror. I've run out of time to change anyway.

The last thing I do before I lock my apartment is take a mental inventory of my belongings: backpack, iPod, phone, keys, wallet: everything I need to get through the next twelve hours. I take one last gulp of my coffee, and thrust myself into the world.

The mail carrier is in the foyer of my building. As I walk by, he gestures for me to stop and, with a leer, hands me several envelopes. It's difficult to remember he's well-intentioned when he's staring at my chest like it's breakfast.

I flip through the mail, once I get outside. Amidst the bills and flyers is a postcard from my father. The picture boasts the banded, vermilion walls of the Grand Canyon girdled by an unexpectedly Dartmouth-green Colorado River. Ironically, I'm waiting for a ride to that very institution. Dad's message is short and sweet. I'm happy to read that he and Sue are enjoying their honeymoon.

A horn beeps in the distance, one of many neighbourhood sounds that swirl around me. Across the street, a young boy adorns his cement driveway with colourful chalk doodles. He waves at me; we've seen each other a lot over the last two weeks. I grin and say "hi." He makes me feel light as a feather, and I'm grateful for the levity.

A silver Volvo pulls up in front of me. For some reason I'm surprised, even though it's the exact vehicle I've been expecting. It's not a car I would anticipate a twenty-something guy driving. Then again, I'm not from Hanover. Perhaps this sedan is the equivalent of a pick-up truck back home. Or maybe he borrowed his mom's car.

I found Masen through an online rideshare program at the college. Aside from matching drivers and passengers, the service checks for an up-to-date licence and insurance, and handles payments. You even have the option to run a Lexis-Nexis background check, which I did. It came back squeaky clean.

We've spoken on the phone a couple of times, and exchanged texts and emails. He seems nice enough. Today is the first time we'll meet face-to-face.

I blow out a breath and reach for the door handle. Here goes nothing.

A/N: So I'm taking a stab at Witfit. I'm having trouble finding my writing mojo, and I figured this might help. At the very least, it's a good exercise for me. I do have a loose story idea that I'll be following. My goal is 30 days. It may continue on longer if I enjoy it. The chapters will be short: 500 to 1000 words.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I'll do my best to answer.

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