[center][h2]Harriette Moore[/h2][/center][sup][color=gray]Moore Household : 0700 hours[/color][/sup]
When she woke up it was slow and quiet. The last remnants of false adrenaline that her brain cooked up for that dream were still pounding beneath her eyelids. Harriette sighed, her eyes still closed, and laid still in her bed until her consciousness caught up with the rest of her. Once it did, it was still a few minutes more before she got up. Lately she'd been waking before her alarm, so the house was pure silence. Unsurprisingly, she was alone. 

She sat on the edge of the mattress in her nightgown, reaching towards the end table for her phone. She fiddled with it in her hand for a few moments before opening the notepad application. Writing her dreams down was something she used to do often, and it'd been a while since she'd had one so... vivid. That plane, those people, the heat and turbulence... 

Harriette stared at the phone's screen for a while, thinking. It was some dream alright. Her subconscious was bringing up images of war. She was sure the psych students would have a field day with that. Personally, she might have chosen another metaphor - though Harriette tried not to think of her... [i]situation[/i] if she could help it. With the exception of fruitlessly fantasizing about ways out of it.

[i][b]Should you find your worth...[/b][/i] That seemed almost like a cruel joke. And from her own mind at that. Harriette squeezed the phone in her hand. Her fingers hovered over the keypad. She stayed like that for a long time, or so it felt. A few minutes later the device vibrated in her hand, the [i]bzzz bzzz[/i] of her Monday morning alarm. She was shaken from her trance, surprised to see water droplets on the screen, but there was no time left to wonder about where they'd come from. Thanksgiving break was over, and it was time to get ready for the day. She stood, tossing the phone onto the bed with not a word written, knowing that whatever was in store for her would wash the dream from her memory.
[hr][sup][color=gray]Barclay Waterfront University Campus : 0900 hours[/color][/sup]
The campus looked just the same as it had before the break. The halls and classrooms did too. There was still a little time before Harriette's first class, and even more before her assistant work. As she walked through the corridors she could see students and professors alike hustling to their obligations. Many of the latter juggling mugs of coffee in their hands. Harriette knew the drink's source and made her way there. Fortunately, the faculty lounge was open to her even while she was "off duty," so to speak. It was crowded this morning. Harriette let herself zone out as she poured herself a cup and let the conversation flow around her.

[color=lightgray]"You'll never guess who I ran into over the break - "

" - finally got to work on some hobbies - "

" - son's been struggling so we hired - "

" - flowers, a huge bouquet! It was so romantic - "

" - wasn't the type of work I'd come to expect from him - "[/color]

" - are you listenin', Harriette?"

Voices were floating around the room, but Harriette wasn't processing the words. Only her own name pulled her attention forward, her eyes coming back to life as the landed on the face of Mrs. Meadows. She was a portly little lady, open and kind, and bless her - she didn't even look half offended that Harriette hadn't heard a word she'd said.

"I'm sorry," Harriette said, giving the other woman an apologetic smile. "Not enough coffee yet."

Meadow giggled and playfully swatted her shoulder. "Oh don't you worry, I've been there! I was just sayin' that I don't understand the point of givin' students projects over break. Never have. How many of them actually get turned in at the end of it? Seems a mite silly."

Harriette nodded. The two kept up light conversation for a little while. Other professors and assistants filtered in and out. A woman that Harriette had grown to know quite well entered the room a few minutes later, and she could have sworn that the temperature dropped a good few degrees when their eyes met. [url=https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EgpjQbdUMAA_OPM?format=jpg&name=large]Professor Rowen[/url], well groomed but aging, smiled and walked right over. 

"Ah, good morning Mrs. Meadows, Miss Moore," she greeted. Harriette raised her mug to her lips, glaring at what little coffee she had left in it. It was always '[i]Miss[/i] Moore' with her. Meadows barely had a chance to return the greeting before Rowen went on. "I passed by the cafeteria on my way here. Did you know they're [i]still[/i] fixing things? They had the whole week to do that, were they slacking off the whole time? Honestly."

Harriette's taste for conversation had soured, so she said nothing, but the lack of response did not deter the other woman. "I trust you both had a nice Thanksgiving Break, but from what I've been told, Professor Samson had an [i]amazing[/i] one."

"Oh? Why's that?" Mrs. Meadows questioned. She seemed mildly curious, but Rowen just gave her a mischievous smile and finally turned to get her own cup of coffee. "Ask him!" she said.

By then most of the people in the room had finished their breakfast and left. The three women who'd been congregating around the coffee maker left too. Mrs. Meadows split off to go upstairs to her classroom, leaving Harriette and Rowen headed in the same direction. The older of the two glanced at her companion and said suddenly, "he had an affair."

"...what?"

"Professor Samson. With a younger woman too, so I've heard. Word like that gets around."

Harriette took a deep breath, keeping her eyes on the hall in front of her. How Leanna always seemed to know everything about a person's personal life she would never know, nor did she care to find out. The woman was like a queen bee being fed gossip by her little drones. Harriette doubted that rumor was even true. Professor Samson was a sweet old man. 

"I'm only telling you because I trust you, Harriette. I want some advice, too."

This statement surprised the red head. Her steps slowed slightly and she looked at Rowen. Somehow, Rowen could always appear like she was never doing anything wrong on the outside. The picture of innocence, or maybe ignorance. She looked like that too, now, even though her eyes glittered darkly. 

"Should we tell her? Samson's poor wife," Rowen said. "She ought to know something like that was going on with her husband, don't you think?"

The two of them came to a stop where the hallway separated into two opposite directions. Harriette stared at the professor. She couldn't tell if Rowen was being genuine, or if this was some kind of veiled threat directed at Harriette herself. She didn't know which was worse either, that Rowen still acted like a friend or that she felt the need to remind Harriette of her situation. She narrowed her eyes.

"...you have class in five minutes," she answered with, lowering her gaze. Professor Rowen blinked and checked her watch.

"Oh, you're right. Thank you dear, you're so thoughtful - memorizing my schedule like that."

Rowen smiled pleasantly, and Harriette returned the expression with some difficulty. Both of their smiles were full of teeth. They said nothing more to each other, separating.