He walked down that same street every weekday morning between 6 and 7. It was a necessity when he was in college that turned into something close to a ritual when he got married. Two years ago, back when the world seemed like a messed up place he could fix he'd walk from his apartment building to the coffee shop every morning, sit down in one of the ridiculously large but incredibly comfortable chairs, and write his ideas, his beliefs down on an old battered journal. The day he found out his girlfriend was pregnant, the day he decided to marry her and get her go through school while he took care of the financial situation, was also the last day he went to that shop and wrote his future plans to bring about world peace. Every day after that he began writing his plans for bringing up his child.

She spends every day avoiding the problems in her life always finding and excuse to do something besides what she needs to do. Every once in a while she'll suck it up, let go of her childishness and deal with whatever it is she needs to deal with, but by that time it's almost alway too late and she finds herself at a loss as to what comes next.

This is her life.

Nothing more than a meaningless, mindless run of just enough. Just enough things to do to keep her from getting insanely bored and just enough to make her life a little interesting. Just enough interest in sports to not look dumb and just enough aloofness to sci-fi to keep her from ostracized.

She doesn't feel alive and yet neither does she feel dead.

She wonders if this is the worst fate.