"Half-caf, half-full americano to go on the bar!" Sarah called out, setting the hot drink down. It had been quiet for a Friday, but she had not had a chance to leave the barista station since she had started her shift four and a half hours ago. Considering it was only a five hour shift, she was glad it had gone by so fast. She emptied the porta-filter into the knockbox, and purged the group head.

"Thanks Sarah!" The girl who came up to the bar for the drink grinned at her. "How is your book coming?"

"I have passed the halfway point," Sarah said with an answering grin, "so it should be almost all downhill from here."

"Awesome. I can't wait to read it. I really liked the first two!"

"Well I hope it doesn't disappoint. It's a little bit darker than the first ones." She grabbed a cloth and started tidying up the station.

"Seriously, can't wait. Have a good weekend, and I'll see you next week!" Sarah waved at her as she hurried out the door.

"Everyone loves you, Sar." Neil's voice was full of good humor.

"Maybe," she said with a laugh, "I think they just love the coffee I make them."

"You are the best barista here." It was not said with jealousy, or even teasing; they both knew that people would ask for her by name if she was not at the espresso machine.

"Only because I am always on the bar."

"And you're quick." She turned to him, putting the cloth down and taking a minute to rest.

"Can you pass me the-" Neil was already holding out the espresso beans and she laughed, taking them and turning back to her machines.

"You still going back to your parents' for the weekend?"

"Yeah," she replied, lifting the lid off the grinder. "It's my Mom's birthday, so I kind of have to."

"So I guess you won't want to go to the poetry slam with me?"

"Sorry, Neil. Even if I wasn't going out of town," she put the lid back on, and clipped the bag of beans closed, "my deadline is coming up way too fast."

"But you are almost finished this book?"

"The first draft, yeah. Then comes the fun part." The sarcasm in her voice was impossible to miss.

"You could just let me read and edit it for you, you know." He was leaning casually against the counter, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, you'd make it totally inappropriate. I don't think so."

"Oh come on, I'm good with words!" His expression was hurt, but his eyes were glittering with humor.

"You are a troublemaker. Stop loitering and go find something productive to do."

"I am being productive."

"How so? By harassing me?"

"I'm motivating you to be a better employee."

"You're delusional." She had met Neil on her first day of class her freshman year at college. She had been hurrying to her class, turned a corner and run full-speed into him. Books and paper had gone flying, and she had been horribly embarrassed. He had kept her from rebounding off his chest, by grabbing onto her. Once she was steady he had helped her pick up her things, and she had hurried on her way, apologizing profusely and forgetting to get his name.

When she had almost run into him a second time later that week, he had surprised her by already knowing hers. He had demanded jokingly that she accompany him to lunch the first free day she had, and she had-blushing furiously—agreed. She learned his name was Neil, and that he was from Europe and was studying medieval literature and folklore. She had embarrassed herself by saying he did not look the type to be interested in such a fanciful subject and he had just laughed in good humor and said he had always felt a strong affinity to the myths and legends of old. He had been the one to encourage her to pursue her writing, and to ultimately push her to submit her work to the campus magazine, and then later to national writing magazines. He had, in a way, been the one to launch her career, and while she was not currently making enough to support herself solely on her writing, she was getting by with her part-time job in the coffee shop. She had also inherited most of her mother's estate when she had died, and that had made the last several years much less stressful for her. She did not want to rely on her inheritance, but she was glad to know that if things went sideways she had something to fall back on while she got herself sorted out. She had invested a sizable portion of the money, but that still left quite a bit sitting in her savings account should she need it.

The one thing about Neil that sometimes made her worry was his affection for her. He had never mentioned having feelings for her beyond friendship, and had never suggested directly that they become a couple, but she had always wondered if he did not think that was where they were eventually headed. During late night—or early morning, as it were—conversations she had sometimes mentioned that she was not ready for a relationship, or not interested in pursuing that kind of intimacy with someone, and he never seemed to be bothered by the statement. It was not as though she thought him unattractive; quite the opposite, in fact. She simply had never felt drawn to him intimately. He wore his thick, dark hair long, and she knew from experience that it was like silk between her fingers. His blue eyes were always sparkling with mischief and humor but he could be serious and was incredibly intelligent and knowledgeable. He listened to her story ideas, and he never ridiculed them as childish.

It had been a far cry from the people she had gone to high school with, who had mocked and ridiculed her for having her head in the clouds. She had never really considered being a bit of a dreamer a bad thing; though she would admit sometimes it left the real world a little bit lackluster.

"Earth to Sarah?" Neil snapped his fingers in front of her face and she startled to attention.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was asking if you wanted to go grab lunch after work. Where did you go?"

"I was just thinking about how we met," she admitted. "Lunch sounds great."

"The usual place?" Sarah just nodded, and Neil grinned at her and wandered away.

"I don't blame you for thinking about meeting me, I am pretty spectacular," he threw over his shoulder as he went. "I will meet you there." Sarah just rolled her eyes. One thing she could always count on was his cocky attitude. She had never met anyone with his self-confidence. Not in real-life, anyway.

When she arrived at the little pub down the street, the waitress was just setting down two pints of her favorite local beer. She flopped into her seat, dropping her purse into the empty chair next to her.

"I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I didn't order for you."

"That's fine, I'm not really sure myself," she said with a smile, picking up her menu and looking it over. It never took her long to make up her mind; they ate here at least twice a week and she usually had one of two things. Today she opted for the spinach and goat cheese salad.

"Rabbit food," Neil said, wrinkling his nose as the waitress came back and took their orders. He opted for a steak sandwich, as usual.

"I like veggies, unlike some people."

"I am just not built to eat the fruits of the earth," he shrugged, then changed the subject. "Did you get your mom a birthday present?"

"Yeah," she said with a nod, "I think she'll like it. Toby wants me to bring him a present, too."

"Of course the brat does," Neil said, but there was fondness in his tone. Neil wasn't terribly fond of kids but ever since he first met her brother they had gotten along pretty well. "Are you bringing him something?"

"I've printed off a chapter of the new book," she said with a shrug. "He's really into them for some reason, so it should placate him."

"Isn't it strange for a soccer player to like fantasy?"

"I don't know," Sarah said thoughtfully, "all the stories I told him when he was a kid were fantasy. There is the fact that he's my brother, too."

"Ah, but your mom was an actress, so it makes sense. Runs in your blood."

"Maybe," she said with a bitter smile, "but we've been close for a long time, so I think it rubbed off a little." They talked about inconsequential things after that; customers at work, the weather, what they planned to do for the weekend. It was comfortable, and when they finished their meal and Neil paid the whole bill she just shook her head and let him. He was almost as stubborn as she was; though she had never had reason to show him that side of herself. As she lived only three blocks from work, she had not bothered to take her car and Neil walked her back to her apartment, which was not so far from where his own car was parked that she thought it strange.

"I mean, you never know what could happen to you on the street."

"Neil, this isn't exactly the sketchy part of town, you do remember that, right?"

"Still, I want to make sure you get to your dad's house without incident."

"I am pretty sure I'm okay to walk the four blocks to my house." Still, she knew she was not going to win the argument; she never did.

"And you let me walk you home anyway."

"Because I don't want to listen to your paranoid whining!" She was laughing as she said it, taking any sting out of her words. He rolled his eyes and took her hand in his, bowing low over it.

"I am grateful to the lady for taking my feelings into consideration." She just shook her head and he straightened, grinning at her. "Alright, seriously, give me a hug. I will see you Monday?"

"Tuesday," Sarah said, wrapping her arms around him. He was not so much taller than her that it was awkward, and he pressed her tightly to him. Neil gave some of the best hugs, and he loosened his hold to drop a kiss on her forehead. "Ow!" She gasped, bringing a hand up to rub her skin, "you shocked me!" The sharp tingle of static was quickly fading, despite it's strength.

"I didn't mean to," he said though his eyes were sparkling mischievously. She slapped his shoulder and stepped back, reaching into her purse for her keys.

"Sometimes you are a massive jerk, Neil."

"Oh come on, Sarah. It was just static, it's not like I meant to."

"Yeah," she grumbled. "Whatever, I will see you Tuesday. I've taken Monday off so I can get some writing done." He was nodding as she slipped her key into the lock.

"Tuesday, then. Have a good weekend, and sweet dreams."

"You too, Neil." She slipped into the apartment, and let the door fall closed behind her. Neil was already walking away, and she rubbed her forehead where he had shocked her absently. Even though it had been a short day for her, she wanted to pack her things for the morning, and she still wanted to do her yoga practice before she got to working on her new manuscript. She rolled her neck to loosen the tight muscles. Perhaps a bath before bed was also in order.

The late afternoon sun stretched warm fingers of light across the room, the golden glow speckled with slowly drifting dust. Laying with her arms and legs spread comfortably out on a mat in a clear space with the warmth of the sun on her face and the golden light turning her dark hair into mahogany, Sarah Williams let her breath flow into every part of her body before expelling it only to draw in another. Her eyes were closed and the muted noises of the world outside her apartment served as an auditory connection to that existence, even as her sense of the ground beneath her body tied her to the very real earth several stories below. Her hands rested open to either side, palms facing upward toward the sky and fingers slightly curled. The sound of her breath passing into and out of her body was her only real measure of passing time. She had found the stillness inside herself; the place where the demands and deadlines that bound her day-to-day fell away and she could just exist as she was in that moment.

The shrilling of her cell phone shattered the quiet.

One green eye opened and her lips turned down in a frown. She had meant to turn the damned thing off before she started her practice, but had apparently forgotten. It sounded again and she exhaled as she rose to her feet in one fluid motion. Padding across the sun-warmed wood floor in her bare feet she stretched her arms upward fingers interlaced before grabbing the offending device.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sarah! You haven't forgotten about dinner tomorrow, right?" Toby's voice demanded. She smiled, despite her irritation at the interruption.

"No, Tobes, I haven't forgotten. It's at seven, right?"

"Yeah, and you should totally bring me a present!" From the other end of the phone Sarah could hear her stepmother chiding the soon-to-be fifteen year old for his exuberant selfishness. "Yeah, but it's just Sarah, Mom. She already knows I'm selfish. Besides, I'm a teenager now. I'm supposed to be difficult." She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her, and she could hear his own grin.

"You are supposed to be a sweet little kid forever, buddy."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen. Anyway, mom wants to talk to you about the boring stuff. I just wanted to make sure you're still coming."

"I'm coming, I promise," she laughed, "now go do the homework I know you're avoiding."

"Man, you're no fun at all, Sar." The whine in his voice was entirely affected.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm all grown up and stuff. Don't get lippy or you won't get anything for your birthday." Toby apologized profusely—if insincerely—and she heard the shuffling sound of the phone being handed over.

"He didn't interrupt anything important calling you now, did he? I know you don't usually answer your phone until later but he really wanted to make sure you were coming." Cradling the phone between her shoulder and her ear, Sarah moved over to her love seat and sat down, curling one leg beneath her and drawing the other up to rest her arm on as she took hold of the phone with her hand once more.

"Mm, no. I was just about done my practice anyway."

"You sound half asleep." Sarah could hear the smile in Irene's voice.

"I was sitting in a sunbeam, and shavasana is all about relaxing. It wouldn't be the first time I've fallen asleep in it."

"I have no idea what that means," Irene said with a laugh.

"Basically it's the part of yoga where you just lie there and let your body relax. So occasionally sleep happens. Plus that sunbeam was really nice."

"So my step-daughter is actually a cat." They both laughed at that.

"Really though, I thought I at least had my phone turned to silent but I guess I forgot. Toby said you wanted to talk about 'boring stuff?'" This time, Sarah was certain she could actually hear Irene's eyes roll.

"He's a joker, that son of mine." It was said with humor, and Sarah understood the feeling. Her half-brother was an energetic and intelligent boy, and while he sometimes acted the insolent teenager he was also very thoughtful and considerate as well. "I just wanted to remind you that you're supposed to be bringing those apple tarts you make so well."

"I have a big note on my fridge about it. I was going to get them ready tomorrow morning, and then we just have to bake them before dessert."

"They're not too much work, are they? You don't have to bring them, you know. If you don't have time, I don't want you shorting yourself on sleep."

"It's not like I have to make more than twelve, Mom. It won't take that long."

"If you're sure."

"I am. Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

"Well," and Sarah mouthed the words as Irene said them, "I was wondering if you were bringing anyone to dinner." Sarah shook her head.

"No, Mom. No guests. No boyfriend. Just me, myself, and I."

"You know, if you did want to bring someone, it would be okay, right?"

"There isn't anyone to bring," Sarah said firmly. She could practically hear Neil's name being chanted in her stepmother's head.

"You should have someone special in your life, Sarah. You are a wonderful woman, it's not right that you're alone."

"You know, you used to say the same thing when I was fifteen," Sarah said with a wry laugh. "It's not that I don't want to date," she began, choosing her words carefully, "I just haven't found anyone that," she paused, threw a handful of words away as unsuitable and continued, "fits."

"But how can you know if they fit at all if you never date anyone?" Irene's voice was a little exasperated.

"I have dated people, but it just never seemed right. I am not going to bring someone to meet you guys when I don't feel very serious about them." She shook her head, thinking back to the several guys she had dated in the past. "It just never seems to be the right time, or the right person, or-" she trailed off. "I don't know, maybe I'm not the right person."

"Now Sarah, don't you dare think that for even a minute." Irene's tone was both concerned and scolding. "There is nothing wrong with you. You might not be quite like everyone else, but you are just perfect the way you are." Sarah was silent a moment, drawing strength from the words and marveling a little at the way her relationship with her stepmother hand changed over the past decade. Once upon a time, Sarah had seen her as the wicked stepmother of her very own fairytale, determined to ruin her life and take away the only person who still loved her. She had not been able to see how her own actions pushed everyone away from her, and how it was her own fault that her family had struggled to understand her. A dream, wonderful and terrible and so very vivid had changed her viewpoint almost overnight, and she had come to understand how her own actions affected those around her. She had not become the model daughter so quickly, of course; it had taken time and quite a bit of effort to overcome her own teenage angst, but she had made the effort to be more understanding and less willful. She had almost been surprised to find out that Irene was not, in fact, evil at all. Even better, she was an extremely encouraging support once Sarah started actually speaking to her. "You will find someone who loves you for who you are and who will appreciate all the things you are capable of."

"Thanks, Mom, but I don't know. Maybe I am doomed to be alone forever."

"I don't think so. You are pretty amazing, Sarah. You just haven't found the person who can see that." Sarah was silent for a moment, seeing in her mind a flash of pale hair and pained eyes. She shook her head.

"Maybe you're right. Anyway, I should go, I want to get a few more pages written before I go to bed. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright, Sarah. Take care, I love you."

"Love you too. Goodnight!"

"Goodnight." They hung up, and Sarah gazed down at the phone in her hand with a sigh. The warmth of the sun was still with her, and coupled with the relaxing yoga she had just finished she was feeling decidedly languid. Still, she had not been lying about the need to get some work done and once more she rose and padded barefoot through the apartment, stopping in her small kitchen to get a glass of water before shutting herself away in her office with her computer and the half-finished manuscript.

"Come on, brain. Let's get the rest of this chapter finished."

She finished not only the one chapter but the following one as well, though it was well after dark when she did. Shutting down her computer with a satisfied sigh she stretched her arms upward and let her thoughts filter back into the 'real' world.

To her left, the window was cracked, letting in the sounds of the street below. Now that she was no longer lost in the world of her own imagining the sounds had meaning again. An occasional car passing, the shouts of happy or not-so-happy passersby. While she had been lost in her own head the world outside had continued on uninterrupted. Her story was about a girl who was stuck between the world she had been born into and the world of her dreams; something of a coming-of-age story in which the girl has to navigate the treacherous space between her early life and her impending adulthood. If she drew some characters from her own childhood dreams, she found herself shying away from blond hair and blue eyes though she could not quite say why. An impression of danger, of loss. Of longing.

The pressure behind her eyes raised its head. She sighed and pressed her index fingers hard into the pressure points at the top of her neck. It was not a migraine yet—not even a headache—but the tightness around the base of her skull left her little doubt one was coming. She glanced at the clock and winced slightly; it was already almost eleven. She was going to have to get up at eight if she wanted to have time to wake up and make herself presentable, and also have time to make her apple tarts before making the three hour drive to her parents' house. She knew she ought to go straight to bed, but decided that a hot bath would have to come first. Sometimes even a short soak could prevent one of her headaches, and she definitely did not want to be completely debilitated by a migraine on her stepmother's birthday.

"Bath, and then bed," she said to herself, reaching over to close the window. She slid the latch to lock, and rolled her head on her neck as she made her way into the bathroom.

The migraines had started when she was sixteen; the first one had been unexpected and unfamiliar, and Irene had rushed her to the hospital only to eventually be told that it was 'simply' a migraine, and they had returned home with some painkillers. Her father had been home by then, and he had been quick to drape a blanket over her bedroom window and put her to bed with a bucket for her nausea. She had heard him speaking to Irene quietly outside her door as she lay in the dark with a cold cloth against her forehead, and had learned that her mother had also suffered from migraines. At first they had come infrequently; six months or more could pass before the aura hit out of the blue. As she got older, however, they came more frequently. In college she had suffered them monthly if not weekly. Her roommate had suggested she keep a 'migraine diary' and monitor what she ate, how much she slept, and how stressed out she felt. At first it had seemed silly, but she was surprised to see a pattern develop.

It was not so simple as 'avoid these foods entirely,' or 'get exactly this amount of sleep,' but she realized that she was getting migraines almost every month within a week of her period. The ones that did not follow that pattern seemed to come when she was working late into the night and not getting enough sleep. Chocolate or cola could trigger one if she had not been sleeping well. Later, once she had her own apartment with a bathroom complete with bathtub, she had taken to having hot baths before bed when she was feeling restless which eased the tension that tended to gather in the back of her neck and helped her sleep more restfully. She had also discovered—quite late in her college career—that drinking just one cup of coffee in the morning seemed to make the migraines less severe when they did hit. She did not know why but after the particularly bad one she had suffered when she was twenty five and had decided to give up coffee she swore that she would never stop drinking it.

Soaking in the tub she breathed slowly, consciously relaxing the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders. Yoga had taught her to be aware of her body, and how to direct her breath to ease the worst of the tension. She had never spoken to a doctor about it, but she thought that being able to approach the pain with a calm sense of acceptance also helped to keep the worst of it at bay. Still, some days it seemed like nothing worked at all.

She knew she had not been sleeping well; though she had not been going to bed particularly late or getting up unusually early she had been having trouble staying asleep. She woke often in the night, anxious or afraid and unable to remember the details of the dream that had woken her. When she rose in the morning, even that vague sense of doom fled before the daylight. She sighed, sinking deeper in the hot water, so that the whole back of her head was immersed. She could feel the warmth seeping in to her muscles, easing them. She hoped that the drowsiness would help her sleep through the night, but there was a little voice in the back of her head that was telling her it would not help. Too little too late.

In the end it was that voice which drove her from the bath only fifteen minutes later. She moved into her bedroom, and pulled on a pair of old silk pajama bottoms and a slightly less old tank top. She allowed herself only a few minutes for some shoulder and neck stretches, and then she slipped under the cover and switched off the small lamp on her bedside table. Rolling onto her side she whispered a quiet prayer to whatever gods might be listening for a solid night's sleep. She did not see the shadows shift in the darkened mirror on her wall, and as her breathing evened out they twisted and writhed out of the frame, to coalesce into an indistinct shape at the foot of her bed. A slender, pale hand reached out toward her, pale hair glinting in the sliver of ambient city light that slipped through the drawn curtains, and then the figure disappeared into the shadows of the mirror once more and all was still and silent in the apartment.

Sarah slept and did not dream.