Trevor Kane, 27 (Pictures)

Trevor wished on the blaring alarm; the sheer audacity to try and start the day before the sun was even up. With resentment in his heart he slammed his palm down on the top of the clock then pulled himself out from under the covers. There was no way out of getting up so he made his way to the bathroom, started the shower, and with sleep-laden eyes began his morning routine.

Once he had brushed his teeth he hopped into the shower. At 5'11" he was tall enough to need to slouch in order to fit under the apartment's cheap shower head. Languidly he finished bathing himself then stepped back out into the cramped bathroom.

He wiped the towel across the mirror and ran his hand across the stubble on his chin. Grabbing a razor from among the myriad bottles his sister Natalie had left strewn across the counter-top he began to carefully shave. He'd experimented with growing his beard out during his early twenties, but these days he kept himself clean-shaven. When he was feeling self-indulgent he could admit that he had something of a chiseled jaw and he figured why not show it off?

Trevor once again went searching through the mess Nat had made of the bathroom, this time to find his tin of hair cream. Most of his hair was cut short, but he kept it longer on top and he liked to leave it looking just a little messy. He dipped his finger into the tin, rubbed the cream onto his palm, then ran his hands through his hair.

With a towel wrapped around his waist Trevor rushed out of the steam-warmed bathroom, through the much more chilly living room, and into his bedroom. He threw on a simple, solid colored shirt and some jeans. Once he was dressed he was ready to go, so he grabbed his keys and hopped into his car.

His campus was a little over thirty minutes away. It was just enough to be inconvenient, but him and his sister couldn't afford the rent any closer to the school. At least the university didn't charge grad students for parking passes.

As he did almost every morning, Trevor walked from the parking lot, up the hill, and onto the quad. He crossed the dew-soaked grass under the feeble warmth of the day's first sunlight and huddled under his jacket until he could get to his morning oasis.

Despite it's shoddy appearance the coffee stand had to rake in a fortune. Trevor alone had probably financed the operator's mortgage. Once he made it to the front of the line Trevor placed his usual order: one coffee, large, and a muffin. It would probably be cheaper to eat breakfast at home, but it was just so much easier to roll out of bed and get it here.

The stand had a total staff of about half a dozen people, but only two worked it at any one time and that was never enough for the morning rush. Today, it was the cute dark-skinned girl with the asymmetrical haircut who handed him his coffee. He tried to offer her a sympathetic smile, but she hurried away without catching it.

Leaving her to her Sisyphean labors, Trevor walked over to one of the unoccupied tables littering the area and sat down to collect his thoughts before the day started in earnest. He passed the time idly browsing the internet on his phone, savoring his last few minutes of relaxation. The phone buzzed and his sister's name popped up at the top of the screen.

*Hey. Didn't catch you this morning. Let me know when you get home. Arthur stuff. It's important but not urgent so it can wait until youre done figuring out the meaning of life or whatever you people do.*

Trevor let out a sigh. Arthur, their dad, had been a scourge on their lives for almost as long as they could remember. Their deadbeat of a mom had skipped out on them when they were kids and hadn't had the courtesy to at least drop them off at a foster home on her way. So they'd been stuck with their dad. Of course, he'd only actually hit them the once, but the rest of the time hadn't exactly been a cakewalk. He and his sister had left a week before their eighteenth birthday and even though they had intended to never look back their dad still managed to find new and inventive ways to cause problems.

Nat was probably right that it could wait though, she'd have let him know if it couldn't, so he pocketed his phone and pushed his family issues to the back of his mind. He had work to do.

Standing up, Trevor left the crisp morning air behind and walked into the stale florescent light of a squat nearby building. He made his way down the interior hallway before knocking on a partially open door.

"Dr. Friedman?" he asked.

"Come in," came the reply.

Trevor stepped into the office and sat down across a cluttered desk from his PHD advisor. Dr. Friedman was the head of the philosophy department and widely respected by the rest of the staff. She was in her late forties and had held the position for almost a decade. She kept her chestnut hair in a loose bun and her bangs, having escaped it, swayed at the side of her face as she finished typing out an email. Trevor waited patiently.

When she was done she swiveled in her chair and leveled her gaze on him through her glasses. She never really scowled, necessarily, but she usually wore a rather serious expression and her angular facial features could make it seem intimidating. Her intensity had made him nervous the first time he'd met her, but she wasn't so bad once you got to know her.

"Did you finish grading those midterms?", she asked him.

"Got them right here," Trevor said, reaching into his bag to hand over a stack of blue books.

"Any standouts?"

"Nothing inspired. A couple of the bad ones were pretty funny though. I've put those on top." She raised an eyebrow but didn't laugh. Worth a shot. "Seriously though, the top half of the class did pretty well. The usual suspects got As: Erin, Chloe, Keneth. There's a couple kids that bombed though. You may want to talk to them."

"Good to know. I'll make sure to check where everyone stands once I put the grades in." She rummaged through the papers strewn across her desk and came out with another stack of blue books. Trevor's heart sank. "These are from the other class. I'll need them graded no later than Friday, because next week they're turning in the rough drafts for their project. We can't afford to fall behind."

Trevor took the stack of essays from her and nodded. "Friday at the latest. Got it." He packed his new workload into the space in his bag he'd only just managed to free up. "You know," he said, "I don't think I've ever asked. Why do you bother teaching an Intro to Philosophy class? You have seniority. You could get out of it if you really wanted to."

She took a moment before she responded. "I like it," was her simple reply. "It gives me the chance to scout out up and comers in the program, and the opportunity to recruit students who would otherwise fulfill their gen-ed requirement then never give philosophy another thought."

"Yeah, but...doesn't it get boring?"

That she did laugh at. Well, it sounded a little like a scoff, but if you knew her then you knew that was a Dr. Friedman laugh. "No, it doesn't. It's refreshing to spend time with the basics, where everything's nice and sorted. Now, my turn to ask some questions. How's your research coming along?"

Trevor held back a wince. "Yeah, it's good. Coming along just fine."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, it's not a breakneck pace I'm setting, but it is coming along."

"And your German?"

"I'm doing well in the class."

"You know you'll need to include at least a few of the Germans in your literature review. Do you think you'll be ready?"

"I won't be publishing my translations or anything, but I think I'm on pace. Yes."

"Good." She took a beat, and her face softened from fully serious to only somewhat serious. "You're able to balance everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm managing."

"You'd tell me if you weren't?"

Trevor laughed. "Maybe not." She didn't seem to like his answer. "Yeah," he said more earnestly, "I would."

"Good. Then keep up the work. Remember, we need those midterms graded by Friday at the latest." With that, she swiveled her chair back to face her computer and resumed typing.

"By Friday, not a problem." Trevor took that as his cue to leave and made his way deeper into the building's gullet to the dilapidated supply closet that was his poor excuse for an office. He had about an hour and a half to get some work done before it was time to TA for one of Dr. Friedman's classes.

***

Trevor walked up to the front door of his friend's midscale condo and knocked. Riley had reached out earlier in the day to see if Trevor wanted to come over for dinner, and of course he had; anything to break up the monotony. Trevor hadn't managed to wrap his day up until after six, but better late than never.

Riley pulled open the door and was practically beaming. "Trevor!"

The two embraced in a hug, and Trevor gave his friend a pat on the back. "Hey man, how's it going?"

"Not bad," Riley said, pulling away and leading Trevor, who shut the door behind himself, into the living room. The apartment smelled wonderful; Paige had to be at work in the kitchen. Riley plopped down on a black leather sofa and kicked his feet up. "What about you?"

"Same old," Trevor said, falling into a plush love seat across from his friend.

"That shrew is still working you to the bone then?" Riley asked.

"Yep," Trevor replied, drawing the word out. Then, as an after thought, "And she's not that bad. I could do much worse for an advisor."

Riley waived his hand, acknowledging Trevor's correction. "You working on anything I'd actually understand?"

"Well, I'm learning German."

"German? What the hell for? Aren't you doing a philosophy program?"

"A lot of the important philosophers were German. I need to be able to read them first hand. Actually, I'm a little behind the ball on that compared to some of the other people on my track."

"I know that 'shiza' means crap," Riley said helpfully.

"Not sure how much that one will come up," Trevor said, laughing, "but thanks."

The two had met in high school a decade ago when Riley was just a freshman. Trevor had been two grades above him, but neither had exactly been popular and such things mattered less on the social fringes. Riley was a ginger, with pale skin, cheeks full of freckles, and shaggy red hair (although Trevor had always thought it more of an auburn) and he had been mocked relentlessly for it. Trevor on the other hand had simply had a tough time connecting with people; his isolation had been mostly self inflicted. Before Riley, he had really only had his sister to keep him company. Trevor and Riley's temperaments were well matched though; neither had felt an obligation to be other than they were. A couple shared interests later and they had become fast friends.

A demure figure glided into the living room from the adjoining kitchen. Paige, Riley's girlfriend, stood with her hands clasped behind her back and a warm smile on her face. "Hey Trevor. Glad you could make it. Dinner should be ready in ten or so."

"Hey Paige. Thanks, it smells wonderful."

Her face lit up. "Glad to hear it. Although I'm cooking with onion and garlic, so it's basically cheating. Anything smells good if you cook it with onion and garlic."

"I've been eating microwave dinners for a week. You could serve me prison slop and I'd thank you for it."

"Well I certainly hope it's better than that," she said with the shadow of a sly smile. That was about as teasing as Paige got. She had been raised very religious, she still was, and she had the sensibilities to go along with it. Not that Trevor was passing judgment. He liked her. She and Riley had been dating for somewhere around a year by now and they made a good match. Earning Riley's trust was a quick way to earn Trevor's in turn, and Riley had been head over heels for since day one.

"How's work going?" he asked her as she made her way over to the couch. Riley swung his legs off to make room for her and Paige settled into the crook of his arm.

"Oh, it's fine," she said, idly playing with a lock of her blonde hair. She wore most of it, except for her bangs, in a loose ponytail that she let rest on her shoulder. It was a good look for her; it paired well with her heart-shaped face and the floral dresses she favored. "There's...talk of some layoffs though."

Riley used the arm he had slung over her shoulder to hug her a little closer.

"Shit, that sucks," Trevor offered in simple commiseration.

Paige was looking at the floor. "My job is probably safe, but I really don't want to be on the team that handles it if things go there."

Trevor had to agree; Paige wasn't exactly cut out for laying someone off. She worked in the HR department of a mid-sized company that did...something or other. It was no secret though that Paige planned on staying home once she got married and had a kid, and Trevor wondered if asking her to do something so far outside of her comfort zone would push her to just accelerate her plans and quit.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Riley said. He brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Are those new?" he asked, noticing her earrings. They were about the size of a nickel and made from delicately twisted gold wire.

Paige's face immediately broadened into a smile. "I finished them earlier this week. Do you like them?" She tilted her head to show them off.

"They're gorgeous," Riley said earnestly.

"I keep telling you that you should sell your work," Trevor said. "I mean, I guess I'm not an expert, but I know Natalie has said it's good enough to pay for."

"It's just a hobby," Paige said.

"Still," Trevor continued. "You're pretty good. Might as well get payed."

Paige shrugged. "Better to keep it simple. Sometimes turning a hobby into a job can ruin the fun."

Trevor nodded. "I get that." Then he leveled a stare at Riley. "Not all of us want to come home from work and then spend all night doing the same thing we just got done doing for eight hours."

Riley laughed. "You're just mad because you know I'm winning the league again this year." Riley was a data scientist by trade, and as far as Trevor could tell a damn good one. Riley poured every ounce of that skill into his true passion: fantasy baseball.

Baseball had been the first thing that the two had bonded over all those years ago. Trevor still played in a pickup league that used his university's field when it was free. Riley on the other hand had never been particularly athletic, but even though he hadn't stepped out onto a field in a long time he was still deeply invested in the sport. Trevor had never met another fan who was as absorbed in the statistics as Riley was, and Riley delighted in using those statistics as a bludgeon to win their fantasy baseball league. He was on a three year winning streak.

"This is going to be my year," Trevor countered. "I can't possibly get unlucky four years in a row. Better get used to silver." Then Trevor let out a hearty laugh. "Jesus, even in my smack talk I still can't imagine you doing worse than second."

Trevor cut his laughter short. "Er, sorry," he said to Paige.

"It's fine," she said. "I'm not going to police your language. But if you guys are talking baseball then that's my queue to go back and check on dinner." Paige stood up and headed back into the kitchen.

"I always forget," Trevor said.

"Eh, it's fine," Riley told him. "I mean, she'd prefer if you didn't but she really doesn't care."

"You sure?" Trevor asked. He really didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Riley said. He seemed sincere, and Paige really hadn't seemed upset, so Trevor let it go.

The two fell into a companionable conversation until Paige came back to let them know dinner was ready. After eating, Trevor hung around for another hour before he begrudgingly admitted it was time to head home. He said his goodbyes, and Paige made him promise to tell his sister that if she wanted any jewelry made for her all she had to do was ask. Trevor agreed, hugged Riley goodbye, then opened their front door and stepped out onto the street.