was enjoying the sound of the rain against his windows as he thumbed through the Rolling Stone he'd bought that day. A Kate Bush album was on the stereo, he had a beer in hand, and he was slumped on the sofa with his feet up, comfortable and content. The rain reminded him of home, although it was pretty early in the year for such harsh weather, even for Northern California. He'd driven a very inebriated Faye Beddoe home from The Depot, offering her a ride to her car tomorrow if she couldn't find one and promising to tell no one of her condition. As if sensing his worry, she'd said, "I don't do this often, Junior. I just… just needed to tonight. I'll be better Monday." "You're sure you don't want to talk about it?" "But… I did. Perhaps you didn't hear…." He wasn't sure what she was referring to but left it at that, hoping to talk with her later when she was sober. It had done him good to get out. He hadn't made any friends since his move, with the exception, now, of Faye. He had a lot of students in his charge, making for a tight schedule, and at the end of the day he had too little energy left to pursue a social life just yet.
