Rory downed the last of her violently pink can of Monster, ignoring how flat and lukewarm it had become. Before a few years ago she had never understood why anyone would go for that sugary crap when coffee was available, but it's an unwritten rule that it's impossible to exist in her line of work without developing a penchant for them. Well, a dependency on them, really. She allowed herself to take her eyes off her laptop screen, gazing around her room as she stretched. The walls were decorated with reminders of her past lives – a collage of clippings from the Stars Hollow Gazette, the framed copy of the Daily News gifted to her on her last day as editor, a framed picture of her and her grandparents at their golden wedding anniversary the previous year. There was also the tat, supplied by her mother – a cheese board in the shape of Oklahoma ("It's the Sooner State!"), a toilet brush with a ceramic tulip on top of the handle, and an alarm clock shaped like a toaster.

"No, look! The toast pops up when the alarm goes, and you push the lever down to shut it off!" Lorelai had said, beaming at an unconvinced Rory on her first day in the apartment. "Look, if you're going to insist on living so far away and being so smart, you need some reminders of your beautiful mother, and the importance of not taking life too seriously. It gives you frown lines."

Sitting over her desk, overlooking the piles of books and stray pages covered in semi-formed, semi-comprehensible thoughts, sat an A2 frame, containing dozens of printouts from her articles covering the Obama campaign, surrounding a photo of her and the then-future-President shortly before he was officially nominated in the summer of 2008. Christopher had given it to her, having bookmarked every article she had written that year. She had felt compelled to apologise to him for all the effort he'd put into it when she decided to leave journalism behind.

"There's nothing wrong with changing your mind, kiddo. Few people know better than me, you're gonna make mistakes, and you're gonna go down the wrong path. But just because it's not your great destiny, doesn't mean you didn't take something away from it. Whatever you do next doesn't take away from the fact that all this amazing work you've done is a testament to who you are, and who you're going to be."

Rory was back in her room at Stars Hollow when she opened the letter. She'd been freelancing since the election. She still wrote pieces for the online magazine she'd been working for during the campaign, but now that the campaign had turned into the presidency, most of the Obama material was covered by their permanent political team. Unsure of her next step, she decided to base herself in Stars Hollow for the time being, alternating between writing in her old room, at the Inn, and at the office of the Gazette, where she was now a regular (voluntary – Taylor was keen to emphasise that point) contributor of opinion pieces.

She smiled through the nerves at she looked at the seal of the envelope, and then back at the wall of Yale paraphernalia that had replaced its Harvard-inspired predecessor. Swings and roundabouts. Paranoid, she poked her head out of her room to ensure her mom hadn't come back in without her noticing. Regardless of which way this went, she was going to need time to figure out how to tell Lorelai – or even if she wanted to tell her. Paul Anka followed her back into her room before she could close the door. "Fine," Rory sighed, "but you'd better not say a word to Lorelai." The dog dutifully climbed onto the bed, followed by Rory, who took a deep breath, and ripped open the envelope.

12th February 2009

Dear Ms. Gilmore,

Congratulations! I am pleased to offer you a place in the Graduate Program in English at the Harvard Kenneth C. Griffin Graduate School of Arts and Sciences, with enrolment in August 2009.

Please respond to this offer of admission via the online application portal as soon as possible, and no later than April 1st 2009.

I sincerely hope you will accept our offer to Harvard. We look forward to welcoming you to Harvard Griffin SAS next August.

With best wishes,

Russell E. Berg
Dean of Admissions and Financial Aid
Harvard Griffin GSAS

It wasn't until her third re-read that she noticed Paul Anka had rested his paw on her leg, eyes looking up at her, tail wagging excitedly. That brought her back to reality somehow, and she noticed everything else – the dryness of her mouth, the longing for a drag of a cigarette, and that feeling in her stomach, the one somewhere between fear and excitement. Just as she went to reach for her phone, she heard Lorelai come in the front door. She shoved the letter in between her pillow and pillowcase, took a deep breath, and went out into the living room.

Three days later, she and Lorelai were again in the living room, sprawled on the couch, unable to move.
"Told you not to eat all that cheese before dinner," Luke said, dryly.
"It's not our fault," moaned Lorelai. "It was the cheeseboard."
"It's the Sooner State," added Rory.
Luke became characteristically exasperated. "You both said you didn't even know what that means. It's a stupid cheeseboard that doesn't fit in the cupboard."
"Sooooooner."

They continued to lie there after Luke had gone to bed ahead of the following morning's delivery, watching Family Feud and occasionally chiming in with a mix of answers and comments on how stupid the contestants are.

"You gotta give it to Steve Harvey, putting up with all those idiots day after day and still managing to act like he's having fun. Oh, oh, yams! Yams!" Lorelai turned her head, seeking approval – or at least attention – from her daughter, only to see that she was in another world.

"Penny for your thoughts? I was expecting you to be very proud of me for naming a vegetable."

Now or never. Rory grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned off the TV.

"What was that for?" Lorelai was exasperated. "I was winning!"

"Mom, I have to tell you something."

"Oh." Lorelai sat up. "This must be serious if it's getting in the way of a BET marathon."

"It is serious. Good serious – I think. I'm not sure. I still haven't really figured out how I feel about it yet and that's why I never told you, and I didn't know if it would happen so I figured there was no point in bringing it up, and after I hadn't told you for so long it got more awkward to tell you and –"

"Honey, take a breath, take a pause. What's going on?"

"I've been thinking a lot lately about what I want my next step to be – the Obama campaign was great and all, it was a really amazing opportunity that I wouldn't trade for anything, but it also sort of felt like there was something missing. I liked the work, but I couldn't see myself devoting myself to it for the rest of my life. The closer it got to the end of the campaign, and the more I started looking for something permanent – I don't know. It's like, maybe this whole time that I've spent wanting to be Christiane Amanpour, I forgot that there's also the option of being Rory Gilmore."

Lorelai sighed. "Okay, and uh, what does being Rory Gilmore entail?"

Rory opened her mouth, and then closed it, realising she didn't know what to say. She stood up and went into her room.

"What, you're becoming a bad mime?" Lorelai called after her.

Rory came back with the letter, and passed it to Lorelai. "Here. Read."

Lorelai's eyes scanned the page, and she gasped as is contents became apparent. "Oh my God. You're going to Harvard? You're going to grad school? I didn't even know you had applied! When did this happen?"

"I don't know – I applied before Christmas and sort of forgot about it until this came the other day. I don't know if it's right I just – it feels right, the idea of me reading about books and writing about books and talking about books. And I know that's probably a romanticised idea of what grad school will be like, and I know it'll be hard work but I –"

"I think it's amazing," said Lorelai, beaming. "I can absolutely see you going to grad school and reading books and writing about them and talking about them. I think this is amazing."

"But what about all that time I spent wanting to be a journalist? All those years at the Daily News and the magazine and those freelance articles – what was all that for?"

"It was an experience, babe. You enjoyed it, you pursued something that you wanted. You pursued your dream and – decided that you have another dream. I am so happy that you have the opportunity to change your mind, to take risks, to do what you really want to do. I didn't have that, and it's all I've ever wanted for you. I hope I don't have to say this but, whatever you decide to do with your life, if it's this or journalism or mime school, I am with you 100%. I love you and I am so proud of you."