Katherine was scheduled to get off at 11:00, which is when her ride had been there to pick her up, but there was the order she was still working on; she couldn’t just drop it half way finished as it was; they would simply have to wait. When she eventually stepped into the car at 11:45, she said “I’m sorry but there was nothing I could do--I had an order to finish”. During the ride home she looked out the window at the blur of lights and the small city which looked noisy, but was silent inside the car. How sick of depending on people for things was she. How much she wanted her own car and her own place. Dinners with people whom she chose for their company, stimulating conversation instead of mindless moronic drivel. She was close, too. How close? School was almost done, and she had pulled her grades up in the last year. Employers liked to see that--the ability to follow through with what you start. But that wasn’t for another two months. What else? Well, the interview had gone well. She had looked good, she knew that, but what did they think of her work? The man had said “You have excellent qualifications, Katherine,” but wouldn’t he say that to everyone? Isn’t that just polite? But the interview had gone very well. She was almost certain. So, assuming she got that job, she could probably start above entry level (owing to her experience), and once you’re in you’re in: there’s always opportunity for advancement. Wouldn’t want to stay with that company forever, though, respected as it is. At least she could move out. Get a place for now, look around for a better one later. It would be years before... The car pulled into the driveway. She went quickly into the house and took off her coat and shoes with impatience. She was dying to get these clothes off and wash her face. In her room, she made eye contact with herself in the mirror while unbuttoning her blouse. Her pants fell to around her ankles. She picked them up and put them with her blouse and bra on the end of the bed. She eyed her breasts, and then her waist, then pulled on an over-sized t-shirt. In the bathroom she scrubbed her face in little circles, then rinsed, then scrubbed again, then rinsed. She scrutinized her face for blemishes and pimples. Three. God, when would she stop getting them? Teeth cleaned, nails clipped, eyebrows plucked, ears Q-tipped, Katherine returned to her bedroom. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she checked off various appointments and ‘to do’s in her day-planner. She moved something from “Today” to “Tomorrow”, then glanced at the first item on “Tomorrow”’s itinerary: “school, meet --------, 9:30”. She closed her book. At 12:10 she set her alarm clock for 8:00 a.m. The little alarm indicator light flicked on. The interview had gone well. She would probably be making twenty an hour. At eight hours a day that’s one sixty, times five that’s eight hundred, times four that’s thirty two hundred, times twelve that’s about thirty eighty thousand. 38K. Well it’s a start anyway. But what about tax. That’s got to be a good thirty percent gone right there. And what about the interview itself: suppose there were others with “excellent qualifications”? The clock glowed red. Does that little light mean “p.m.” or “alarm”? She leaned over and pushed a button: “TIME 12:14” No indicator light. That’s “a.m.”. She pushed another button: “ALARM 8:00” No indicator light. That’s “a.m.” too. She released the button. The little light next to “ALARM ON” came back. At 12:17, she was asleep.