Morningstar Manor

He was going crazy like everyone else around here. He must have been. That was the only explanation.

He had that book in his bag. He knew he'd put it in there, because the ridiculous thing weighed almost twelve pounds. He wouldn't have imagined wrestling a book that size into his bag.

And the very last book Raymond would have put in his bag, much less owned in the first place, is one by Danielle Steele.

He also found in his bag a set of keys with a big, pink rabbit's foot attached, and his keys nowhere to be found.

"Great, I'm locked out now."

The day was only half-gone, and Raymond was already hard-pressed to think of a way it could be worse.

Several people had recommended this Mocha place to Raymond, so when he finally managed to get everything unpacked an in a decent order, he found his way down there.

Decades of near-constant travel had him trained off of Denny's, IHOP, and truck stop greasy spoons. The menu at a place like this only confused him. He got a cup of the simplest coffee on the menu, and some sort of pumpkin pastry...thing, before finding an out of the way table to sit down and people watch for a while.

This whole 'stable' lifestyle thing was going to take some time to get used to.

The apartment door was open, allowing anyone passing by to hear an absolute classic from somewhere inside.

The first thing he'd done when he got in was set up the stereo -- get the important things out of the way before working on anything else.

Beyond that, moving in was not going as easily as it could have. Just under the music, anyone passing by might have heard also various mutterings and swearings from the new tenant.

"Az Isten faszát," he grumbled, trying to push a large box out of a doorway.

When it refused to move, he kicked it with his left foot.


Great. Now he hurt on both sides. That was smart.