BRAIN LEIPOLD The Deadline She opened her eyes to find it was still dark. After a brief moment of confusion, she realized her long, black hair had fallen over her eyes while she slept. Pushing it back out of her face, she looked at the clock. 7:58. Somehow, she had managed to wake up just before her alarm went off. She reached over to turn off the alarm and sat up. There was plenty to do today. She went downstairs to make herself a cup of coffee. As the coffeemaker went to work, she gazed around the kitchen, eventually looking over at the calendar. Her eyes were drawn immediately to the red circle around today’s date, but they darted away just as quickly. She sighed. At that moment, the coffeemaker finished its job, and she took the warm mug upstairs, not bothering to add any cream or sugar. She sat down at the white desk in her room and took a long, slow sip of her drink. Setting the mug aside, she opened a drawer and took out a pen and a fresh sheet of paper from the small stack that remained. She wondered when she had begun to run so low, but a glance at the bin next to her desk, overflowing with crumpled sheets, quickly reminded her. Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the paper in front of her and placed the pen to the page. Before making any more than a tiny dot, she had her concentration broken by a chirp from her window. The birds outside began singing a tune that, while lovely, she knew would be endlessly distracting. She got up and shut the window. At the same moment, a thin cloud passed in front of the sun, darkening the room slightly. Pursing her lips, she turned away from the window and went back to her desk. When she sat down again, the black dot on the page seemed as though it had grown by a nearly imperceptible amount. She stared at it for a moment, puzzled, and shook her head again. She was imagining it. Another sip of coffee, and she picked up the pen again. Suddenly, the room darkened further. Surprised by the abrupt change in light, she went back to the window to see what had caused it. The sky had grown noticeably darker, and it looked as though a storm was approaching. It was strange that the lovely weather that morning had so quickly turned foul. She hoped it wouldn’t rain; she was afraid of thunderstorms. Shaking her head again, she sat back down at her desk, and turned her attention once more to the page in front of her. She froze. The black dot had grown larger this time. She 142
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