Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Tuesday, 4/4

I apologize for the delays in posting this part. It should have been done sooner, but someone gave me a Rubik’s Cube as a gag gift at my wedding shower. What they didn’t realize was how much I had been wanting one of those infuriating little cubes and my sheer determination to conquer it. Now that I have established dominance over that little piece of multi-colored plastic, I can get on with my life…

Thanks for all the feedback I have received on the previous three installments of this story. I’m sorry if you were looking for an A-plot, but I’m afraid I don’t have the first clue how to write one of those. However, for those of you who requested a longer chapter, hopefully you’ll enjoy this segment. This is almost as long as all three previous parts combined.

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Part 4

*******

As I’m telling Clark my story of how I transformed from being an ace reporter at Metropolis’ Daily Planet to a hideaway in rural Kansas, I’m transported back into my memories. Back to a time when I was at the top of my game, living what I thought to be the perfect life: hard work, the smell of fresh newsprint, and success.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Ever since childhood, I was always determined to be the most successful reporter there ever was. In my adult life, I worked even harder because I was female. Never mind that at the tender age of 26 I already had three Kerth awards under my belt. That wasn’t enough for Lois Lane. Nothing was ever enough. I was ambitious in every sense of the word. I needed something bigger, something better, something that would win me the Pulitzer.

I took every lead seriously. I believed that any tiny tip could lead to *the* story, the story that would change my life. As a result, I was all over a tip I received in early February of 1993 from one of my most reliable sources. Drew encouraged me to look into the shipments going out at the docks. He wouldn’t tell me what exactly I was looking for, only that it was highly illegal and I’d know it when I found it.

He had never been wrong before, so I did some quality snooping (which a few legal officials might call breaking and entering) in the offices at the docks and unearthed handfuls of ship manifests. They were all pretty standard imports and exports—nothing that would have caught the eye of customs officers. Despite this, one set of manifests seemed to catch *my* attention. They detailed shipments of computers to the Congo government. On the surface, computers didn’t seem fishy to me. But I just knew, somewhere deep down inside of me, in the part that is completely Lois Lane, that these were the shipments I was looking for. Maybe it was because computers weren’t such a hot commodity then—especially not for a country like the Congo—and it sure did seem like an awful lot of them were being shipped. Maybe it was because I’d never heard of the exporting company, Horizons Incorporated. I don’t know what it was exactly I suspected, but I was determined to find *something.*

Some people call my reporter’s instincts adrenaline. Some call it blind luck. I call it persistence. I knew something had to be amiss. A handful of manifests that appeared to be legitimate weren’t going to throw me off the scent of a hot story. I sat in front of the mind-bogglingly slow copier and made duplicates of every one of those manifests. Once I had a pocket stuffed full of paper, I high-tailed it out of the offices and headed back to my apartment to begin my deep investigation of Horizons Inc. I never noticed the security camera tracking my every move.

I spent days doing research on Horizons. As I suspected, it was nothing more than a shell company. I dug deeper into layers of companies, layers of protection. I spent every waking moment working on getting to the bottom of who Horizons was. I finally came to a dead end at a company called The Gamma Group. I’d never heard them, either. I couldn’t find any information on them. For all intents and purposes, they didn’t even seem to exist. They were just there. Purpose? Nothing. Mission statement? Nada. All I had was the date of incorporation and the CEO. Established in 1985. Owned and operated by Sevanto Ellis. I wanted to weep at how far I had come to find nothing at all.

Never one to be down for long, I decided a full expose on Mr. Ellis was in order. That research was when I found the motivation to continue. Sevanto Ellis was practically just a ghost. According to what I could find on him, he’d died in 1991. No photographs, no heirs, no will and testament. Just a death certificate stating that he’d died of a myocardial infarction in 1991.

This was finally something to stoke my instincts. A dead man couldn’t be shipping computers to the Congo.

I spent the next several weeks watching every shipment that came in and out of the docks. It didn’t take long for me to find the ship I wanted. I learned its patters, its schedule, the dock workers. I waited and bided my time—something which is very hard for me to do—until the night finally came that I could board the ship and see what was really going on.

What I found that night far surpassed my expectations.

The ship was full of crates, all lined up in neat rows. I just had to know what was inside of those crates. I knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that they would not hold computers. It took longer than you would expect to locate a crowbar, and even longer to actually pry a crate open. It was hard work, and I wasted precious time. For the first time in my life, I found myself thinking it might be a little easier if I had a partner, preferably a male, who could do some of the strong work. But Lois Lane doesn’t really need anyone. It might have taken more time than I intended, but I got that crate open. Inside, I found twelve computers, stacked neatly three wide, two deep, and two tall.

I was ready to howl in frustration when something caught my eye. Wedged tightly between two of the computers was something that glimmered in the light of my flashlight.

A diamond.

I remember thinking how lucky I was to find that one diamond. I’ve come close to striking out on a story only to find that one little clue to revive it more times than I’d like to admit. I thought that diamond was a godsend, because it prompted me to haul out one of the computers and crack it open.

It was breathtaking, the sheer number of diamonds inside that empty computer case.

*******

Clark has been listening to my tale with rapt attention, but he has now adopted an adorably confused look. His forehead is creased, faint lines have appeared around the corners of his eyes, and his head is cocked ever so slightly to the side, indicating that he most likely has a question. I pause in my narration, giving him the opportunity to ask about whatever he is thinking.

“I don’t understand,” he begins hesitantly. “Didn’t the police handle it from there? How does this lead to investigating a gun-running ring?”

I can’t help it. I have to laugh at his question. If that’s how the other Lois Lane operates, I can see why she’s still living a wonderful life in Metropolis while I’m stuck on a farm in Kansas. Perhaps if I ever meet her, she can teach me a thing or two about staying alive while investigating. No, maybe not. I think I’ve learned that lesson all on my own.

“I didn’t report it to the police. Yes,” I interrupt the start of his protest, “I know *now* that would have been the smart thing to do. But at the time, the only thing I could think of was to find out what else was hidden away on that ship. I went through every computer case in that crate, but they were all empty except for the one full of diamonds. I went through two more crates, and turned up nothing.”

“Then what did you do?” he asks, seemingly forgetting my indiscretion.

“I found the log for the merchandise on the ship. It was marked as returned defective merchandise. That was when I suspected the diamonds were a pay-off for something else. I figured the only thing I could do was wait for the ship to be loaded to go back out and find out what was being sent to the Congo in return for the diamonds. While I was on my way back home, I had an…encounter…that emphasized to me how big of a case I was on the brink of unveiling.”

“An encounter? What do you mean?”

Clark looks concerned, and for good reason. It wasn’t the first time I’d been threatened away from a story. At the time it happened, it only served to make me more excited, rather than to scare me off as intended. However, given what I know now, I feel a little shaken when I look back on that night. It was Tuesday, May 4. This was a point when I could have walked away, when I could have given up the story and gone about my life. Maybe I should have.

“I was almost home—rounding the corner of my street, actually—when a man stepped from the shadows and grabbed me.” I feel tears coming to my eyes. Clark notices, and tightens his grip on my hand, giving me the strength to continue. “He told me I was getting in too deep with the shipping story. He said I should back off, and in case I needed any incentive, he was going to give me something to remember.”

I can see fury brewing behind Clark’s eyes. “What was the incentive?” he asks, looking like he might break something if I let go of his hands to give him the freedom to do so.

“He roughed me up pretty good. It wasn’t enough to go to the hospital, but I knew for days afterwards that I’d met up with that guy.” I tip my head to the side and brush my hair away from my neck to show Clark the jagged scar running below my ear. “He gave me that, along with some bruises and a cracked rib.”

Clark reaches out to slowly run his fingers over the scar. His touch is tender, but he quickly pulls back. A part of me wants to admonish him for being so presumptuous, but a more dominating part mourns the loss of his gentle fingertips.

“You at least reported this to the police, didn’t you?”

I shake my head. “No, I was afraid that it would ruin my chance at getting the story.”

“But surely someone noticed!”

“Oh they did, but I told them I’d been mugged and they ought to see the other guy. The cops don’t really pay much attention to muggings. It happens far too frequently in Metropolis, and it’s too hard to catch the guys who do it.”

Clark nods his reluctant agreement. “That’s true. It’s something I’ve helped change since I’ve come forward as Superman. Still, this wasn’t a mugging, Lois. You should have reported it to the police.”

I know that now, of course. No story is that important.

“You’re right, but what’s done is done. I can’t change the past. Shall I continue?”

Clark doesn’t look happy, but he relents. “Yes, continue, please.”

*******

My encounter with Mr. Dark-Alley-Snatcher did nothing at all to put me off the case. When I got home, I cleaned up my wounds and wrapped my torso the best I could. The next night, I was back down at the docks, ready for another exploration of the ship.

I wasn’t able to get on the ship that night. During the day, the shipment from the night before had been unloaded. Now the new shipment was being prepared with a steady stream of workers loading crates into the ship. I watched from a distance, unable to determine anything about the merchandise in the crates. I’d like to say my reflexes were slow from the previous night’s assault, but I’ll admit that my guard was down because I was focused solely on the events in front of me. That’s how, for the second night in a row, I found myself with a hand clamped over my mouth. In one heart-stopping instant, I thought it might be the end of me after all.

“Lois, don’t say a word,” hissed a voice in my ear. The hand came off my mouth and I whirled around, prepared to go on the offensive, only to find myself face to face with my source.

“Drew?” I exclaimed, glad to know my would-be attacker wasn’t a threat after all. I was about to admonish him for taking years off my life when he hushed me and beckoned for me to follow him.

We finally stopped about two blocks away at a point that Drew deemed satisfactory. For the first time, I was able to take in his appearance. He looked more haggard than I had ever seen him. His blonde hair was unruly, his clothes rumpled, his eyes tired. “Lois, you can’t be on this story any more,” he implored me. “It’s too dangerous. If I had known what this was when I first tipped you off, I never would have told you about it. You’ve got to drop it.”

Lois Lane? Give up a story? I knew he just had to be crazy. There was no way I was giving this up, especially since the more I learned, the more people became concerned.

“Horizons is just a face, Lois,” Drew continued. “There’s a company behind these shipments who is far more powerful, far more dangerous than I ever anticipated.”

“The Gamma Group, you mean?” I asked. Drew must not think as highly of me as I had expected, if he didn’t realize I had come that far in the investigation by then. “Who are they? Who is this Sevanto Ellis guy? What is on that ship, anyway, that is so important? What are they trading for the diamonds?”

“I can’t tell you that, Lois. I can’t tell you anything else. I shouldn’t have told you anything in the first place. You’ve learned way too much already. There’s someone powerful behind this Gamma Group, and they know you’ve been snooping around. There’s a price on your head as it stands. Being down here, you’re just asking for trouble. Go home, Lois. Forget about this story.”

Drew was gone before I could question him any further. If his plan was to run me off the story, he didn’t succeed any more than knife guy had the night before. I was even more determined to find out what was on that ship.

Two nights later, my opportunity came. In the wee hours of the morning, I managed to sneak on the ship and crack open a newly-packaged crate. Just as I had seen before, the crate was full of computers. And just as before, the computers were merely cases containing no hardware. But this time, there weren’t any diamonds to be found.

Inside of each and every computer case I opened was a gun.

I missed so many opportunities to do things the right way during that investigation. I had so many chances to make the right decision when I instead opted to do things my way for the sake of the story. This was one of those moments. A smart girl would have phoned the police. The Lois Lane of today would phone the police. In 1993, I ignored that option. I gathered every ounce of incriminating evidence I could find, and headed straight home to call my friend Jack. Jack owned a plane chartering company and better yet, he owed me a big favor. I was going to the Congo. I was going to find out what those guns were being used for, and who was receiving them.

*******

I didn’t get to call Jack that night. It was actually a couple of days before I had the chance to speak with him. When I returned home from the docks, I got one of the most startling discoveries of my life—home wasn’t there anymore.

In the hours of confusion that followed, I learned that while I’d been cracking open computer cases on a ship in the harbor, someone else had sent a bomb hurling through my bedroom window. My duplex was nothing but charred shell of bricks by the time the firemen arrives to douse the flames. To this day, I am still eternally thankful that my neighbor, Old Lady Johnson, had moved out just two weeks before in favor of a retirement community. But while she was safe, I was now suddenly homeless.

Honestly, having my duplex torched rattled me more than anything ever had before. It also left me completely incensed. I let that emotion take hold of me, ignoring any parts of fear or panic that tried to emerge. If these people were really going to try to kill me, I was going to make sure I got them first.

When I got through dealing with all the necessary preliminary legal red tape, I marched into the Daily Planet and informed Perry White that I was going to the Congo on the trail of a story. I told him everything he needed to know without revealing too much. Like the sensible man he was, he initially forbade me to go. I told him this was the Pulitzer on the line. He threatened to fire me. I threatened to quit. In the end, I prevailed and left the Daily Planet with his blessing, even if it was given somewhat grudgingly.

With my home now gone, I checked into a hotel for the next couple of days while I got all of my affairs in order. In my one and only smart move, I checked in under a pseudonym, allowing me to be left alone for the duration of my stay. I spent the time tracking down Jack, calling in favors, and lining up my trip to the Congo. I spent a small about of time wallowing a little, too. Even though I didn’t lose anything more than material possessions in the destruction of my home, I had been proud of my little duplex. It was the first place outside of a dormitory that was mine, and mine alone. After one good cry, I went on with my life. Time passed quickly, and soon I was ready to embark on the greatest journey of my life.

It was a Tuesday morning when I walked out onto the tarmac in a quieter, less freqently used section of Metropolis International with one meager suitcase of recently purchased clothing and my trusty notebook. Jack personally met me and introduced my to my pilot, a slight girl with fierce blue eyes who didn’t look like she could be more than five years my senior. I exchanged pleasantries, tucked away my suitcase, and settled in for the flight. My eyes were on the future, the story, the thrill of the chase. I didn’t know that I’d just taken my last look at Metropolis as I fastened my seatbelt and prepared for takeoff.

******

An hour into the flight, I got my first clue that my life would never be the same again. The cockpit door opened and a man walked into the cabin where I was seated lining out story notes in my journal. He immediately captured my attention, as I thought the only two people on the plane were me and my little pilot. He was neatly groomed, wearing expensive jeans and a button-down shirt, short hair combed back into a stylish coif. He looked far too clean-cut to be criminal, but in my years as an investigative reporter, I’d learned not to judge appearances as an indication of personality.

I watched him from under my eyelashes as he seated himself across from me, taking his time in making himself comfortable. After some final fidgeting, he raised his eyes to mine, and softly said, “Lois. Lois, I begged you not to do this,” as he took my notebook gingerly out of my trembling hands.

The voice, if not the words, were enough to clue me in. I hadn’t recognized him without the blonde hair and rough street attire, but a careful examination of his face revealed the truth. I knew this man. I’d been getting story tips from him for years.

“Drew?” I asked, incredulous as to how he was somehow seated on a private plane across from me.

Wearing a wary smile—one of those that looks a little tired and grim and highly fake—Drew nodded. “Yes, as far as you’ve always known. Until now. Unfortunately, my hand has been forced. Today, you get to learn who Drew really is.” He held his right hand to me. “Special Agent Daniel Scardino, FBI.”

Special Agent? FBI?

My head was spinning. If my informant was actually an FBI agent who had tracked me onto a chartered jet, what had I gotten myself into? Suddenly, I felt sick. In the pit of my stomach, in the same spot that always tingles when my reporter’s instinct kicks in, I felt a knot begin to twist itself into existence. This couldn’t be good. Drew’s warning suddenly seemed much more relevant than I’d thought before. With my mouth becoming increasingly dry, I voiced the only question that could come to mind before I lost my ability to speak.

“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“I’m afraid so. Lois, you’ve gotten yourself into a nasty situation. The Gamma Group is far more powerful than I ever knew. They know you’re on to them, and they’re not going to let you find out what you’re looking for. The first two warnings were exactly that, Lois. Warnings. You haven’t seen anything this group is capable of yet. This whole trip was a set-up. We think Jack tipped them off. If we go back to Metropolis right now, there’s a group of men waiting to intercept this plane and make sure you don’t make it away from the airport alive. Another similar group of men are waiting in Point-Noire on the chance that we make it all the way there. Today, one way or another, Lois, you’re going to die. They’ll never let it happen any other way.”

My mind was stuck on the word “die.” I was only twenty-six. In the prime of my career. Far too young, far too ambitious to die. This couldn’t be happening to me.

“I’m…going to…die?” I ask, the words coming out in trembling spurts.

“Well, maybe not in the traditional sense of the word. If you’re willing to listen to me and trust me, you’ll be very much alive by the time the sun sets tonight, but you’re not going to be Lois Lane again for a very long time. Are you willing to hear me out?”

Ready to embrace any scenario that got me out of this sticky situation alive, I nodded my agreement.

“In roughly two hours, a device that has been planted on this plane is going to detonate.”

“Device?” I interrupted, suddenly finding my voice as fear clamped around my heart.

“A bomb, Lois. Please don’t interrupt. I’ve only got so long to explain what is going to happen here. Save your questions for the end, and I’ll answer as many as I can.”

I nodded dumbly.

“In two hours, a bomb on this plane is going to detonate. We are going to parachute out of here, alive and hopefully uninjured before the explosion. Another plane, identical to this one in every way we can manage is going to take over our route and finish the flight to the Congo. When it lands, the men who inspect it will find that there was an error in their device that caused it not to detonate. They’ll swear it’s the same plane, including a pilot who looks very much like Jenna up front. The only difference will be that that plane doesn’t include a Lois Lane. Hopefully, they’ll either think you escaped from the plane before they were able to inspect it, or that you never got on the plane in Metropolis. They’re going to be looking for you, but by that time, you’re going to be far away from either location.”

Drew…no, Daniel’s information seemed so surreal to me. What was this, a spy movie? I was going to parachute? Out of a plane that was going to explode? And if I couldn’t go back to Metropolis, I was going to go…where, exactly?

“What is going to happen to me then, if I can’t go back to Metropolis?” I queried.

“Have you ever heard of the Witness Protection Program?” Daniel asked.

Of course I had.

“It’s like that, only more strenuous. Until this case is cracked, you’re going to be spending your days under an assumed name on a farm in Smallville, Kansas with a bodyguard. If you agree, I need to give you a crash-course in skydiving. If not…well, there really isn’t much else I can do for you.”

God, if only I hadn’t been so stubborn. If only I had learned not to go blindly ahead in a less drastic situation than this one. I was faced with two choices: death, or death by name. I only had one real option. How long could it take to crack this case anyway?

An hour and a half later, I was standing next to Daniel and my soon-to-be sister, staring at the ground beneath me. I felt a pang of sadness at the weeks, possibly months, I would be missing of my life. I resolved then and there to be more cautious in the future when working on stories.

“Ready?” Daniel yelled at me over the roar of the wind, holding out one hand to me, with his other hand already firmly clasped around Jenna’s.

I nodded and grabbed Daniel’s hand like the lifeline it was.

“Okay, on three. One…two…Three!”

With one firm push from the floor, Lois Lane fell away from me and Crazy Katie Fulton was born.

*******

Drawing myself out of my memories, I brush a tear away from my cheek. I feel ridiculous, letting Clark see me weep over something I’ve wept over thousands of times before. I’ve become complacent living the live of Katie Fulton in Smallville, but at times I find myself missing my old life tremendously. Especially the family and friends I never got to say goodbye to.

Clark thumbs away a tear and squeezes my hand. I draw in a deep breath and count to ten to steady myself. Once I’ve found my composure again, I let out a weak smile and continue on.

“We made it back to the states alive and in one piece with the assistance of the FBI. I was in a good deal of pain, what with the cracked rib, but I was given medical attention at a base in Miami. Then we spent a couple of weeks traveling around, making sure nobody was on our tail before we ended up in Smallville. My new identity was created, I was given my life story, and I begin to practice the role of Crazy Katie. Daniel and Jenna filled me in on everything they knew about The Gamma Group. By the time they got through, I knew I had made the right decision.

“Honestly Clark, I fully expected to be here maybe a few weeks, maybe a few months at the most. I never realized I’d be here for eleven years. Living this life has been difficult for me. I’m so isolated.”

I pause to remember that first morning I woke up on the farm. It was a beautiful summer morning—Tuesday, June 1. As I stood on the porch that morning, holding a cup of coffee and watching the sun rise over the prairie, I knew that this was the rest of my life. I’d never felt so alone as I did in that one moment when the first rays of sunlight revealed the vast expanse of land stretching as far as the eye could see. My new home. My new grave.

“I love Jenna, but it’s hard to have only one person to talk to every day. I have gone through some rough times, including initially adapting to this lifestyle. A couple of years into my stay, when hope started to look bleak on ever getting back to who I was, I contemplated escaping. I got almost halfway to Metropolis when I witnessed a fatal robbery at a convenience store where I stopped for gas. It scared me in a way I had never been terrified before. Daniel had to come rescue me and bring me back here. I haven’t left the farm since. I’ve lived in fear ever since then.

“I’ve never given up complete hope of going back to Metropolis, but sometimes it seems so far away. The information on The Gamma Group dried out a couple of years ago. We’ve never caught them. We still don’t know who the mastermind is behind them. Some of the lower-ranking workers have been tried and convicted for crimes, including the gun-running scheme. But whoever the master organizer is—nobody knows. He’s still looking for me. He knows I never made it to the Congo, but the Congo government made it look like I did arrive there and then just vanished. We’re pretty sure they used that tactic hoping it would draw me out of hiding. Of course, it hasn’t. I’m still here.”

I give a shaky laugh. “And that’s my story. It doesn’t involve dimension-hopping, but it is rather fantastic.”

Clark’s eyes grow serious. “Do you still want to be Lois Lane? Do you still want to go back to Metropolis someday, if we can find this man and put him behind bars?”

“I do. I want to talk to my sister. I want to see Perry again. I want to walk amongst the population. Go out to dinner. Get a real haircut.” I stop to consider the implications of his words. “Are you really saying you’ll help me get my life back?”

Clark pulls me up into a hug. It feels so comforting, being held in the arms of this man whom I’ve only known for a few hours. “Of course I will,” he whispers earnestly into my hair. “I think the world could use Lois Lane again.”

I’m about to laugh with glee when I hear the front door open and Jenna’s heartfelt laughter echoes throughout the house.

“Lois?” she calls out, my name cut off short by a giggle and a colorful admonition.

“In the kitchen!” I yell back.

Jenna rounds the corner, her smile lighting up her face. Daniel waddles in behind her, his arms wrapped around her stomach, his own face the picture of pure delight. Both pause in their tracks as they spot the man who is standing behind me with both hands on my shoulders.

“Superman,” Jenna whispers, a hint of awe in her voice.

“Clark,” I say, unable to keep the smile out of voice, “I’d like you to meet Jenna and Daniel Scardino. They’re the ones who are responsible for rescuing me and taking care of me for the last eleven years. Jenna, Daniel, this is Clark Kent. He’s going to help us solve this case.”

“Thank God!” Daniel says, as he shakes Clark’s extended hand. He then turns and winks at me. “I was getting tired of putting up with Lois, here. She’s a real handful, you know.”

Clark lets out a laugh that fills the room. “I’m starting to realize that.”

*******

With every expectation I had for my first meeting with Clark Kent, the day went above and beyond my greatest hopes. After Jenna and Daniel came home, we spent hours talking over everything. We discussed my investigation and the subsequent consequences. We talked about me, about Jenna, about Daniel. We talked about Superman and Smallville. There were serious moments as we mapped out our plan of attack, but a great deal of time was spent simply getting to know one another, telling stories from our lives. We cried a little, but laughed a lot.

By the time the clock struck two, we knew we needed to call it a night. Clark announced that he needed to get back to Metropolos, and I walked him to the door as Jenna and Daniel retired to their bedroom.

“You’ll be back tomorrow?” I ask, as I open the door and step out onto the porch with him.

“Absolutely. We’re going to do this together, Lois. I’ll be here to help you every step of the way as much as I can.” He looks like he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. I feel energy crackling between us as he takes a step back.

It’s the craziest feeling. I feel as though I have known this man my entire life. I don’t want him to leave, but I know he has to go for now.

“Clark?” I ask, just to draw out his stay one minute longer.

His eyes lock with mine. “Yes?”

“Thank you for everything.”

He looks confused, but he doesn’t say anything. He steps forward and places his hand on my cheek, threading his fingers into my hair. “Anything you need. Any time.” He places a gentle kiss on my forehead and steps back again. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says one last time before he is gone in a gust of wind.

After I’m sure he’s long gone, maybe even back in Metropolis, I step back into the farmhouse and close and lock the door behind me.

As I lean against the closed door, I’m struck with a feeling of hope. This is it. This is the beginning of change. Finally, something is going right for me.

For the first time in eleven years, I’m looking forward to Tuesday.