"So how's that love life?" Mair asks knowingly.
I snort. "What love life?"
My friend sits back in her chair, studying my face. "I just thought of someone I could set you up with," she says thoughtfully.
"A blind date?" I say, horrified.
"He's a shy mountain man type, so I don't know if I could convince him to go on a blind date, but if I do, you have to go," Mair says firmly.
The idea both terrifies and intrigues me.
"Sure, why not?" I say, laughing and rolling my eyes. "I'll add getting set up by Princess Mair to my list of life achievements at 40."
My friend giggles.
"Are you sure you want to fly back?" Mair asks, standing at her car.
"Yeah. I'm itching to shift."
She pulls me in for a hug. "I'll talk to you later, and remember, if I can pull off this date, you're totally going on it."
"Okay fine," I say, stepping back and putting my hands up in surrender. "I promise."
Mair hops into her car and drives out of the parking lot. When she disappears around the corner, I take a deep breath and shift into my cedar waxwing form.
The summer air feels good on my feathers as I fly through the trees toward my car parked at POAA. I weave between towering pines and firs, their canopy filtering sunlight into dancing patterns below. A hawk circles overhead, and I bank left to avoid its territory.
The forest smells delight my bird senses. Once I find the perfect cottage on the beach, I'll need to look for a rustic cabin up here on Ravenhart Mountain too. Something about this place calls to me.
2
Lorne
In the lab, I find my fellow science professor Leonardo already poking through the boxes on the table.
"Looks like our order is all here," he says, looking over at me.
"Fantastic. We can actually start on time this year," I say, opening the box next to him.
As we log the order and put things where they belong, music plays on the radio. We work quietly and efficiently until Leonardo says, "Wait, I just realized that you didn't walk here from the residences."
"Nope," I say. "I'm officially all moved in. I'll have to have you and Dana over for dinner once I'm fully unpacked."
The lab supplies are more extensive this year. New microscopes, updated chemistry sets, and some equipment I've been asking for since I started here. The kids are going to love the upgraded spectrometers. I pull out a box of petri dishes and stack them methodically in the supply cabinet.
"Alright. I'm holding you to it, and you know I'm going to make you cook that sage and butternut squash tortellini again."
Smiling, I say, "I wouldn't expect anything less from you."
Leonardo grins and continues unpacking while humming along to the classic rock station. We've worked together long enough that we move around each other efficiently, each knowing exactly where everything belongs. The familiar routine feels good after a summer away from the classroom.
I leave the windows open, letting in the late August mountain breezes as I hang up the last picture in my living room.
Turning around, I take in the sight of my tiny one-room cabin. I had the option of buying this place or a larger cabin that's even more remote, but I chose this rustic little space because I enjoyed how authentic it feels. The larger cabin had more modern appliances, but I wanted something that felt more authentic.
The cabin suits me perfectly. Rough-hewn log walls, a stone fireplace that takes up half the main wall, and wide plank floors that creak in all the right places. My books line makeshift shelves along every available wall space. The kitchen is barely big enough for one person, but perfect for just me. A simple gas stove, a small fridge, and a coffeemaker cover my cooking requirements.
Grabbing a beer, I walk out to the front porch and settle into the wooden rocking chair. My driveway and woodpile sit in the foreground, but beyond that, it's just trees as far as the eye can see. The silence is complete except for the occasional bird call or rustle of leaves. No voices from neighboring faculty apartments, no footsteps in shared hallways, no sounds of communal living.
