Viola did not enjoy the unexpected. In her desired profession, flexibility was something of a necessity, and yet, she would have been lying to say it no longer bothered her. Although she accepted it, doggedly bulldozing through the inconvenience, the frustration always niggled at the back of her thoughts to have to readjust her schedule, to occasionally even re-frame her entire perspective. She cared for it even less when such occurrences happened outside her workplace. Her day, as it always was, had been meticulously carved up into balanced portions of work, socialization, chores, errands, and relaxation. It was often purely in that single hour she slated out for free time that she truly had a chance to sit down, allowing the many aches built up by a day spent on her feet and on the go finally roll off her as she settled down on the couch to read. Her contacts had been exchanged in place of glasses, her skirt and blouse replaced by cotton pants and a t-shirt, a scientific journal was spread across her lap, and then the lights had gone out completely.
Reading was put off, and instead she sought out the circuit breaker, checking it as best as her limited knowledge of such things allowed, before at last she resigned herself to locating a flashlight, counting the number of candles in her collection, and setting them out on an easily accessible space with a nearby set of matches. If required, she could make due, but Viola decided it was best to figure out if she was an isolated case, exiting her apartment to seek out her neighbors. She took a spare flashlight just in case she stumbled upon someone without one. It was probably a good idea just to make certain everyone was all right. Names fluttered to the forefront of her mind as she saw that the entire building appeared to be without electricity: Adam, who was perhaps her closest friend in the building, and then with a rather unwanted, fluttery sensation in her stomach, Samuel. She preferred not to dwell too longer on the latter, as she had still yet to truly understand exactly what it could embody. That February evening she'd run into him had filled her with the most baffling emotions, potent and compelling, and while that strength of response had never been replicated upon subsequent glances and hallway run-ins, she felt convinced something must have been there. The man still inspired a feeling in her beyond the pure apathy she ought to feel for someone she barely knew, even if it had grown more muted and increasingly confusing since that day. In truth, she had spent more time mulling over it and him than she cared to admit. She was troubled to find her own mind suddenly so uncharacteristically unpredictable, so riddled by inconsistency, when she had never been someone prone to mood swings, whims, or flights of fancy.
Putting such musings out of her thoughts, she forced herself to focus on the situation at hand, pointing the bleaching white beam of light toward the opposite wall as she made her way to the stairs. Her mind was busied with listing out simple tasks that sufficiently dealt with the sudden loss of power. She would listen for any sign of trouble, help where she could, check up on her friends, and seek out someone who could adequately inform her about what was going on.