Alright then, here's Chapter 1 in its entirety then.
The phone rang wildly as Jason lunged for it, knocking his half-empty glass of water on the floor, shattering it everywhere. ‘This has got to be my call,’ he thought hastily picking up the phone, paying no immediate attention to the mess.
“Hello?” his voice quivered.
“Jason, bro!” was the reply and the nervous tension lining his face melted away. It was only Taylor; not the call he had been hoping for. His fingers ran unconsciously through his light brown hair, pulling the roots in utter frustration.
“Oh, hi Taylor. It’s you.”
“Boy,” his best friend laughed, “you really know how to greet a guy, don’t you. So did you hear from the agency yet?”
“Nah, nothing yet buddy. Kind of thought you might be them,” Jason replied half-heartily. “Listen, I got to keep this line open in case they do call. Alright bud? I’ll call you when I hear something.”
Jason hung up the phone before his friend could find a reason to keep talking. It just wasn’t the moment for idle chatter; his whole professional life was on the line, dammit. ‘He’ll get over it. A 12-pack over a game and he won’t even remember this moment.’ It was easier to think so than believe it though, a bit of guilt still hanging on to his sleeve.
Recalling the mess and sloughing his guilt, Jason grabbed a towel from the kitchen and cleaned it up. ‘I really don’t know how much more of this I can stand. It’s been three weeks since the interview and I was promised a call by now; one way or another.’ A small shard of glass pricked his finger, slicing the tip, making it smart and bleed just a little. ‘Guess that’s what I get for not paying attention.’
He finished bandaging the little wound in the bathroom just as he heard the television go to commercial. He popped his head out of the door to have a look, always on the lookout for new techniques being used in his field of advertising study.
“Oh damn, come on!” he shouted at the screen as if he were watching his favorite team make a bungling error. “What were they thinking with that ad?” He tossed the towel he’d dried his hands with haphazardly on the floor, his eyes never losing focus from the screen as he walked back into the living room.
“These frickin’ idiots! I just proved in class right before graduation that’s the worst technique for capturing the viewers’ attention.” Jason jumped over the back of the couch, plopping down in his usual spot and grabbed the remote. He was just about to change the channel when another commercial came on. He criticized that one similarly and then found problems with a third as well.
When the main program returned, he flipped through the channels looking for more commercials, momentarily pausing when he saw his ex-girlfriend modeling an evening gown on QVC. Her newest love interest was the girl doing the presentations; at least that was the popular rumor. Jason rolled his eyes and kept surfing.
The phone rang once more, causing him to jump, falling over the back of the couch in an effort to get to it in time. ‘This one is it…, I’m sure of it,’ he thought though the answer machine picked up before he could. Hearing his ex’s voice on the line telling him to turn on QVC and bragging about her new line of work, he figured he’d never appreciate falling over a couch more than at that precise moment.
He headed to the kitchen, thinking to get another glass of water when the phone rang a third time. ‘It’s probably just that stupid bitch calling back to see if I’m really not home,’ he thought absolutely refusing to make another run for the phone in vain. Still, he hung around the machine to be sure.
“Mister Starks? Jon Cosman here of Enter…,”
Jason grabbed the phone before the speaker could finish. “Hello? This is Jason Starks.” He fought back what felt like a giant frog in his throat as he attempted to sound as professional as possible.
“Ahh, yes. Mr. Starks. Jon Cosman of Enterprise Advertising Agency. I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”
“Mr. Cosman, no, thanks for calling. I’ve been hoping to hear from you.”
“As right you should my boy!” The voice was boisterous and commanding; an arrogance about it that only a millionaire CEO like Mr. Cosman could have. “I’ve been reviewing your file from your interview a few weeks back. I must say, it is most impressive.” Jason’s chest swelled with pride, confident at that point the job was his.
“I do hate to inform you, however, that the position you applied for in Los Angeles has already been filled. Nevertheless, based on the past several interviews that my organization has held with you, I am personally prepared to make you a most generous offer.”
Jason didn’t even react to the news of the lost position. Now that his ex-girlfriend was out of the picture, the last place he really wanted to stay was Los Angeles. He was a free man; free to be sent anywhere they needed him. ‘Just give me a damn job, please,’ he thought. “You’ve got my interest, sir. Go ahead.”
“Mr. Starks, with your keen understanding of the advertising market and innovative techniques for understanding your clients’ viewers and products that you’ve demonstrated in your sample submissions, I would like to invite you to join our award-winning general management team.” The words fell on incredulous ears, Jason’s mouth falling open in awe.
“I guarantee you will be most pleased with the salary and benefits of such a position and, might I add, that I have a particular office in mind that is in dire need of your expertise.”
Jason swallowed hard. Of course he would accept. He’d be a fool not to, but where was it going to be, the middle of nowhere? “Might I inquire as to the location of this office?”
“Milan, Italy.”
* * * * *
“Ms. Luzzi, could you come into my office please.” His voice was dreamy sexy, pure Italian just like her but with a noticeable exotic New York accent. Catarina couldn’t believe her luck. He wanted to see her; Giosué Cuomo, by far the best part about working for the Milan Branch of Enterprise Advertising, and he was asking her to come to his office again.
“Coming, sir,” she replied in Italian. It wasn’t that she actually thought something could ever come of it. After all, interoffice romances were on her black list of romance possibilities because they never worked out well.
Furthermore, he had never shown even the slightest romantic interest in her and why should he. He met with beautiful models nearly every day. Besides, rumor had it that the company’s contracted model, Giacinta, had interest in him and there was no way she could compete with that. Still, his handsome presence definitely made the day pass more enjoyably.
“You called for me, Mr. Cuomo?” She stood in the doorway. Unconsciously, she fidgeted with her blouse hem, making sure everything was perfectly in place.
“Please, come in,” he had changed to English, something he had only done with her in the past few months when they were speaking of things he didn’t want the rest of the staff to know of just yet. She was the only one of the seven who could understand him. “Have a seat.”
“How I can help you, sir?” she responded back with her own labored English. All those summers in England with her father and she still had difficulty with the language but… at least it had landed her this job. Milan was a tough city to find work if a girl wasn’t grade A+ model material.
“I just got word from main office, Catarina. They’ve selected a new manager for our branch.” She noted his angst of the situation, primarily in the scowl of his eyes. He wanted that position, everyone knew it. On the outside though, he was still maintaining his professionalism; a trait she had to admire.
“His name is Jason Starks. He’s an American… a recent graduate of UCLA and supposed to be highly gifted in the advertising field. According to Mr. Cosman, we’ve got two months to make ready his arrangements. Do you think you can handle it for me Catarina?”
She was a little confused about what he meant by ‘arrangements’ and so asked in Italian for clarification. “Secure an apartment; provide transportation from the airport to the apartment, that sort of thing. Can I count on you to take care of this?” He had remained in English; obviously not wanting the staff that they both knew would most likely be listening through the thin walls to be fully aware of the situation just yet.
“I will, sir. Thank you to trust me with this important job.”
Giosué smiled at her. “I know he’ll be in good hands with you.” She thought she caught a small wink from him but it had to be her imagination. He had already returned to looking at the documents on his desk, a clear indication that their conversation was done. Just as Catarina was about to exit the office though, he looked back up at her.
“You might want to practice your English a bit too. Mr. Cosman personally requested that you be Mr. Starks’ personal assistant and as of right now, he doesn’t speak a word of Italian.” He had a sly look about him as if he personally should be thanked for the promotion. She wondered if perhaps he had done something to achieve it for her.
“I told you, Ms. Luzzi, when I hired you that you’d go far being a bilingual in this office. Don’t let me down.” Giosué returned to his paperwork. Catarina thanked him again for the opportunity and then turned to leave. Outside his office with a secret whisper heard only to herself, she celebrated the good news of the promotion and then fanned herself with her hands and exhaled excitedly.
“Oh God, he smells good!”
* * * * *
“Welcome to Milan Malpensa Airport in beautiful Lombardia, Italy,” the captain announced over the plane’s speaker. “Local time is 19:54 and the temperature a chilly three degrees Celsius. I would like to thank you for choosing Alitalia Airlines and look forward to serving your travel needs again in the near future.” Jason assumed the Italian garble which had preceded that announcement was just the same information in the local tongue.
‘Three degrees Celsius? I wonder what that is in American degrees?’
The plane came to a halt and the weary passengers scrambled to their feet before the ‘fasten seatbelt’ sign even had a chance to turn off. Jason grabbed his small carry-on and joined the deplaning mob.
A bright spotlight illuminated the exit to the plane and the tarmac below. Some passengers headed for a nearby bus stop to be driven to the gate while others started the 100-meter hike right away; Jason joined the latter group.
‘I’ve already waited long enough to arrive. Besides, the walk will keep me from freezing in this dreadful weather.’ He had already regretted not bringing a coat during the layover in JFK, this was even worse. Attempting in vain to block the cold, he crossed his bare arms across his chest as tightly as he could manage and jogged toward the door. A little over halfway there, a bus carrying those who had waited passed on the left.
Finally arriving at the door, frozen thoroughly to the bone, he followed the mob inside and down a hallway then up a staircase. After a few twists and turns, he arrived at the end of a long queue. The sign over the sole officer at the head said IMMIGRAZIONE.
The line’s progress proved murderously slow, the minute hand on Jason’s watch lazily strolling from the two to the ten before he was finally next in line. Passport in hand, he thankfully approached the desk. The officer said nothing, just warily reviewed his documents, scrutinizing the passport photo to Jason’s weary face, then entered a few bits of data in his computer and stamped the date of entrance into the passport.
Jason broke into a brisk stride down the corridor he had seen so many before him take. By the time he arrived to retrieve his luggage though, the conveyor was empty and shut down, his bag and a handful of others resting in a pile on the floor, a little worn from the trip. At least it was there though.
Customs proved to be equally exciting. A young gentleman with the inviting smile of a crocodile requested the customs document that was handed out on the plane. With a harsh Italian accent, the officer asked in English where Jason had come from and about his final destination and purpose in Italy. Upon mention of the new job, the official asked to see the passport and visa once more and then waved him on through.
Just beyond the Customs’ doorway, Jason found a seating area dotted with people waiting for their loved ones and associates still making their way through line. A few others were standing, holding signs with a variety of names on them. Someone was supposed to meet him there as well, but none of the names looked even remotely like his. One even looked like Japanese writing.
Perturbed and unsure what to do next, Jason laid down his luggage and rested in one of the waiting area chairs. Several minutes later, a young woman holding a large sign in her right hand came walking up as fast as her high heels would allow.
Her dark blonde hair had fallen to partially cover her brow and a flush had crept into her sun-kissed cheeks, most probably due to her rushing state. A strapless white cotton dress hugged her slender midsection and draped to her knees, the bodice clinging feebly to her modest bust. The pressure of her brusque movements shifted the garment, threatening to expose a little too much with each hurried step.
Breathing heavily, she walked straight past Jason and joined the line of name bearers, bringing her own sign up in front of her chest. She whisked her shoulder-length hair aside that had fallen in front of her face and adjusted the dress, attempting to hide behind the sign as she did. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but Jason decided to get up and check the name on her sign. ‘It would definitely be nice to be picked up at the airport by such a beautiful woman.’
Casually strolling by as if heading in another direction, he glanced over at the sign; Jeson Starks – Enterprise Advertising Agency. He chuckled seeing his name misspelled. It wasn’t exactly a difficult name to begin with but he decided not to comment on the error when he approached.
“Excuse me, miss. Is it safe to assume that you speak English?”
Her accent was a soft melodic Italian-English. “Yes, sir. I can help you with something?”
Jason pointed at the sign. “I do believe I’m the one you are waiting for.” He put out his hand to shake hers. “Jason Starks.”
“Oh, Signor Starks,” she took his hand and flashed him a sweet if not embarrassed smile. “I am very happy to meet you. Very sorry to keep you waiting though; you were here long?”
Jason shook his head to the negative, instantly letting go of any distress he had previously felt by her tardiness. “Just a moment or so before you came along.” She was just too cute to be upset with.
“Okay, good. I think perhaps I would miss you. You are hungry I believe after your trip?”
If a person could call that dinner, he had actually eaten quite recently on the plane. Still, a chance for dinner with a beautiful woman doesn’t come along every day, even if it was in an airport. “Sure! Sounds good to me.”
He grabbed his luggage from the seat nearby and followed her down the wide airport corridor. “By the way, what’s your name?”
“Oh, I am so very silly. Please excuse me.” She turned a shade of red from embarrassment at the oversight. “My name is Catarina Luzzi. Is a very nice pleasure to meet you.” The slight shade of red turned full blown blush when Jason responded that she had a very pretty name. After a moment of walking in silent awkwardness, she continued, “So about your dinner, you are American so I think you to like pizza, no?”
“Count me in.” She waved him to follow her as she detoured into a nearby pizzeria, the sign above the typical fast food style counter reading ‘Autogrill Spizzico.’ They opted for a table near the entrance where Jason set his luggage down.
“What do they have here exactly?” Jason felt a bit helpless looking over the giant menu board. Some things were recognizable in Italian, most not so.
“You tell me what you want and I will put the order for you, okay?” Catarina offered. “They have a normal pizzeria menu like in your country I think.”
“I’ll have the one with the salad,” he pointed to picture on the end. “But make my pizza same as yours. I’d like to experience a real Italian pizza for once and water to drink.”
She chuckled at his comment. “You wait here and I will order then.” She scurried off to wait her turn in line while Jason took his seat next to the luggage. By the time he was situated and looked back at the counter, Catarina was already approaching the register.
Drawn in by her extremely expressive hand gestures while she spoke, his gaze shifted to her backside and he found himself admiring her shapely figure. His focus was ascending once more, following her slender legs when she turned and waved her fingers at him. He smiled and waved back, trying to pretend he had just glanced her way a moment before.
Intentionally diverting his look elsewhere, hoping he hadn’t been caught staring, he noticed a couple sitting at a nearby table. He deduced they must have just returned from New York, perhaps even on his plane. They were both wearing an ‘I love New York’ T-shirt and he picked up the word ‘York’ more than once in their garbled conversation. He tried to see if he could decipher anything else from the Italian language but it was futile.
‘Now I wish I had studied before I got here,’ he thought recalling numerous times he had intended to sit down with the little dictionary he had bought but never got around to opening it.
With his face deliberately turned in the general direction of the couple, he saw out of the corner of his eye that Catarina was headed back to the table, a tray in hand. Surreptitiously, he watched her hips sway most attractively with each step. She was very concentrated on her walk, seemingly nervous that she might slip. A moment later, he intentionally looked her way, feigning surprise that she was back already and stood to help her with the tray.
There was a piece of pizza for each of them, a salad as he had requested and a small chocolate ice cream for her along with a Coke and a bottle of water. “This pizza is very common here. Is called ‘Margherita,’” she indicated her own slice, an identical piece on Jason’s plate as well.
“That sounds like a drink we serve back home,” he replied and they both laughed.
“Yes, I try your drink before. Is very good.” She opened her Coke and took a drink, swishing around the bottle as if it were an exotic alcoholic beverage. “This margherita pizza is my favorite. It has mozzarella, oregano and… pomodoro.”
“What is pomodoro? The other two things I know.” Jason took a bite of his slice, his eyes never coming off her hazel colored ones.
“I think you call it um… an apple? You know, is red and very soft. They grow on vines. I am sure I read Americans use these apples on pizzas a lot, no?”
With a puzzled look, Jason replied, “I believe you meant a tomato. Wouldn’t want to eat a soft apple, especially not on a pizza.” He chuckled and she blushed a tomato-red upon realizing her mistake and picked up her own pizza, eating it somberly.
Jason felt horrible. Wanting to pick up her spirits, he inquisitively asked, “You are obviously a native Italian, yet you speak English so well. Where did you learn?”
Her face brightened immediately at the compliment. “Thank you, but I miss much to learn still. My father lives in England, was native from there and I was visiting him most summers as a girl. My second name is from him, Morgan, and I like it very much because he was so very special to me.”
Jason noted her use of ‘was’ referring to her father but didn’t think it the proper time to ask what, if anything, had happened. The meal continued with pleasant conversation; he learned that she and her co-workers already knew a lot about him; 23 years old, a graduate of UCLA, things of that nature. Catarina had worked for the company for only a few months, being hired by Giosué Cuomo after a certain Ricardo Mancini had retired; the man Jason was replacing.
“Oh Dio,” she exclaimed as Jason cleared the table and dropped the plates in a nearby receptacle. “Is much later than I believe. We must go. Milan is an hour to drive from here and you can lose the apartment if we do not arrive soon.”
Jason hurriedly grabbed his things and they left the pizzeria. A few yards up the corridor, Catarina stopped at a row of lockers and grabbed a heavy black coat, paying for a day’s rent of the facility then led the way to the exit. Though she moved quickly, Jason had to check his normal quick pace and long stride so as to maintain himself by her side.
“Is very cold outside. You have a jacket, I hope?” She had stopped just inside the exit door. At least, that’s what the bilingual sign above the doorway read. She bundled herself in her own coat.
“No, I don’t. When I left Los Angeles yesterday, it was quite warm. I didn’t even think of bringing one.” She appeared pensive for a moment.
“Okay. Wait here where is warm and I will bring the car close. You will be okay alone for a moment, no?” She was already digging in her purse for her keys. When Jason responded that he would be just fine, she flashed a quick smile before turning to walk through the automatic doors.
‘Perfect Jason. Send the adorable secretary out in the cold to get the car because your dumbass didn’t think to bring a coat. Great first impression man!’ He sat down on his luggage, his hands under his chin and waited.
* * * * *
Catarina raced down the highway toward Milan, Jason fast asleep in the seat next to her. They had continued the conversation for a bit after leaving the airport but the utter darkness inside the car had finally gotten the better of him.
It was getting to her too. It had been a long wait inside the airport, especially after finding out Mr. Starks’ original flight had been postponed due to bad weather in New York and she ended up waiting six whole hours longer. Still, he was the new boss and she was glad to have been the one to meet him. After all, she was his personal assistant now. Besides, he wasn’t too hard on the eyes either she figured, glancing over at him from time to time.
’Don’t start down that road,’ she thought to herself, recalling her cardinal rules of romance. No interoffice romance and no foreigners! Her mother was still reeling from her affair with a foreigner of twenty-two years ago – her father.
Not her. She wasn’t going to be victim to a foreigner’s charm, no matter how exotically attractive the guy might be. She wasn’t going to be left with a baby and a broken heart once she found out he had a whole other family waiting to go back to in England. After all, she wasn’t her mother.
She stopped the car abruptly, nearly forgetting what she was doing in her daydream. The first stop light of Milan and of course it had to be red.
“Wha… Where are we?” Jason had perked up his head to look around, awoken by the abrupt stop.
“We’re in Milan, Mr. Starks; about ten minutes from your apartment. You are asleep for the past hour, but I do not mind. I understand you have a very long trip.” She smiled at him, not quite sure he could even see her in the darkness. ‘I wish I had spent more time in England with my father. Speaking English all the time is a lot harder than I thought.’
“Sorry ‘bout that. Thanks for understanding,” Jason laid his head back down and Catarina couldn’t help but chuckle. Boss or not, he really was an adorable sleeper.
Pulling up to the apartment, Catarina thought to leave Jason in peace while she arranged to receive the key to the place she had secured. It was a smaller building than her own but the apartment was actually a bit bigger inside; way too expensive for her salary even with the promotion, but easy on a manager’s budget.
“Apartment 308,” she told the office manager in perfect Italian just as he was starting to close up for the night. He didn’t seem to remember right off who she was.
“I’m Ms. Catarina Luzzi from Enterprise Advertising. Remember, we secured this apartment for rental beginning today.” She hadn’t liked the guy the moment she had met him over a month prior. For starters, he had spent more time hitting on her than actually discussing the rental contract. When she didn’t fall for his advances, he suddenly turned cold and even raised the rent cost with some lame excuse of monthly fees. All because she wouldn’t go have a coffee with him; some men were such pigs!
“Ah… yes. Ms. Luzzi. I remember. You are quite late though,” he closed the door behind him, locking it securely. “That apartment is now rented for the next year. Might I add, she offered me a nice premium to the rent.” The disgusting smile on his face told her way more than she wanted to know. “I am sorry for you but I will arrange for your deposit to be returned less the processing fee of course. Good night to you miss.” Without a glance back, he walked away as if she had been a simple beggar on the street, worthy only to be ignored.
A million thoughts ran through her mind – getting fired was at the top of the list. ‘What do I do now? Hotels are expensive and he’s got to have a place to stay.’
There was only one solution that she could think of at that late hour. Tomorrow would be another day and she could better solve the problem during daylight hours.
* * * * *
Jason felt a tap on the shoulder. “Signor Starks. You should wake now. We are at my apartment.”
“What? Why are we at your place?” He wiped the sleep from his eyes, trying to focus on his surroundings.
“An unfortunate problem; the owner rents your place today for… more money. Not a very nice thing to do but, there you go. It happens I am afraid.” Catarina got out of the car, popping the hatchback where his luggage was at. “You stay here with me and tomorrow I will see about another apartment for you. Okay?”
“Oh, alright. Thanks for the help. I’m sorry to be so sleepy. That trip was exhausting.” She waved her hand like it was no big deal.
“Not to worry. Take your things inside and I will make a bed of my sofa for you to sleep more comfortable.” She grabbed his carry-on, leaving the larger luggage for him.
Jason noticed it wasn’t as cold here as it had been at the airport. Pulling his baggage out of the back, he looked up at the building where she was heading. It was of brick exterior and he counted five stories of dark windows, only the occasional light on here or there. He closed the car and followed his hostess, looking forward to actually lying down comfortably.
“I live on the floor number two, so you… have not to carry your things far. At least I am not on the top floor.” Jason agreed, noting she must be nearly as exhausted as he was. Her English was getting more difficult to follow. ‘At least she speaks English, though. I’d have been sunk without her.’
She led the way down a narrow corridor, past a large block of mailboxes in the wall and then turned right up a flight of stairs that switched direction at a landing in the middle. Jason followed only but a step behind and at the next floor he turned to step into the passage.
Catarina was laughing. “Where you are going? I live on floor number two; this is floor number one. We have one more floor to climb.”
Jason was quite confused for a moment, pointing in the air at the floor below as if he were counting stories. Catarina in turn continued up the second flight of stairs followed by Jason now several steps back. Dead tired and wishing he was already lying on that sofa, he looked up, anxious to see the end of his climb. Instead, he saw the backside of Catarina’s legs much higher above her knees than that dress had been meant to put on view. Embarrassed and not wanting to be rude, though nevertheless intrigued by the sight, he promptly lowered his head to watch his feet instead; one step at a time.
Catarina was already in front of a plain white door, the second one on the left, by the time he reached the corridor. Unlocking the door, she waved him to come in. “Place your luggage next to the sofa. I will bring blankets and a pillow for you.”
He set his things down and sat on the sofa to wait. He noticed first that the apartment was kept just as clean and tidy as the car had been. Everything was in its perfect place. The room wasn’t large per se, but not so small as to be cramped either. A big-screen television lined the opposite wall next to the bedroom door and, to his right, was the open doorway to a very small, well-appointed kitchen. He complimented her on her home when she returned with the linens.
“Thank you very much,” she replied gracefully. “The bathroom is through the bedroom door, to the right. I will make your bed while you ready yourself to sleep. You want something to drink or eat?”
Jason thanked her politely then fumbled through his haphazard luggage, hiding the mess inside from her view with his body. He searched out his toothbrush and then his most mature-looking pajamas, passing on his favorite duck-print ones first. Then he went to the bathroom where she had directed him.
The bathroom was smaller than he was accustomed to, making it difficult to change clothes without falling into something or hitting his knee. Still, with a little luck and ingenuity he was finally successful. He then brushed his teeth, collected his things and was just about to leave the room before thinking better to tidy up after himself. It was one thing to be disorderly in your own house; it was plain rude to do so in another’s.
Catarina was finishing his bed as he came in, turning down the top blanket and sheet before noticing he had returned.
“I prepare your bed so now you can sleep. I hope you sleep well, Mr. Starks…,”
Jason cut her off, his hand in the air. “Call me Jason. Please. Mr. Starks sounds like I’m an old man or something.”
She gave a sweet adorable smile that accented her freckle-specked cheeks. “Okay, Jason. I hope you sleep well. Tomorrow, I will be in church mass when you wake.” She rolled her eyes like it wasn’t something she exactly looked forward to doing. “I will see what I can about a new apartment after mass. A breakfast will be left for you in the kitchen, just if you wake before I return but feel free to rest as much you like.”
Sliding under the covers, Jason responded, “Thank you so much for all your help and hospitality, Catarina. I would have been lost without you today.”
As she walked through the door to her bedroom, she stopped and smiled at him. “Not to worry Signor… er, Jason. Sleep good… and welcome to Italy, sir. I am very happy to have you for my guest. Good night.”
She turned off the lights and closed the door, leaving him in pitch black darkness except for the electronic green glow of a clock next to the television which said 1:19. By the time the clocked turned the minute, he was already asleep.
Anyone Around Here Do Model United Nations?
, 24 hour phases, points per center, 10 days to join
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