PLEASE READ BEFORE PLAYING: In this multiple choice adventure, you play a nice young man named Simon, who rents an apartment with his friend Bugsy. Good luck!

NOTE: Some of the entries are so long that you will need to scroll down to read all of the text. When you click on the link to continue, be sure to scroll back up to the top of the screen in order to read the next entry. If anyone knows how to fix this problem, please let me know! Enjoy!

Click to get started on your adventure.

You awaken to the sound of your phone loudly playing “By the Seaside” at you from across the room.

“Ugh, stop it,” you groan, dragging yourself out of bed and stumbling over to your desk to switch it off.

You would love to sleep longer, but you are on your feet now. You yawn, stretch, and go to the bathroom to pee and brush your teeth. Since you have plenty of time before you need to get ready for work, you decide to...

go for a run.
head to the gym.

You put on your running clothes and leave your apartment, with your keys in one pocket and your phone in the other. Taking the elevator down to the ground floor, you leave the building and begin your run.

Your route takes you along the edge of the parking lot, down a paved path with a chain-link fence on one side, then into Truman Park, a wide expanse of grass dotted with a handful of oak trees. All the way around the park you run, occasionally meeting other people coming the other way, or overtaking people going in the same direction as you. This is a popular spot for runners.

Eventually, sweating and panting for breath, you make your way back to your apartment building, and take the elevator up to your floor.

Continue.

You put on your gym clothes and leave your apartment, with your keys in one pocket and your phone in the other. Taking the elevator down to the basement, you find the gym empty, as usual.

You spend half an hour lifting weights and getting as comprehensive a workout as the limited equipment will allow. Towards the end of your session, your next-door neighbour Clay Ferrell enters the room. Unsurprisingly he is wearing a white tank top with enormous arm-holes, along with a pair of long cotton shorts. “Hey man,” he says.

“Sup Clay,” you reply, a little shortly.

He attempts to engage you in conversation, but you are trying to stay focused on your workout, and keep your replies laconic. Also, the man just rubs you the wrong way.

“Have a good one,” you tell him, as you head for the door.

“You too man,” he replies.

You take the elevator back up to your floor.

Continue.

“Shower time,” you mutter, as you enter your apartment.

The shower refreshes and invigorates you. After you have dried yourself, you get dressed and make yourself some coffee. As it is percolating, you grab a Danish and some blueberry yogurt from the fridge.

Your friend and roommate Bugsy shuffles out of his room, scratching his scalp through a tousled mop of ginger hair. “Morning Simon,” he mumbles.

“Good morning Bugsy!” you say cheerfully. “Late night again?”

Bugsy chuckles. “Yeah, a bit,” he confesses. “I was playing Battle Storm until god knows what time.”

You nod, and take a sip of your coffee as you sit down at the kitchen table with your food. Bugsy gets himself some coffee too, then he takes it into the living room and sits down in front of the television.

After breakfast, you get dressed, shave, comb your hair, and splash on some aftershave. “Have a good day, Bugsy!” you say, and then you head out with your bag and keys.

The drive to your office takes about ten minutes. As you walk in through the front door, you smile at Carol, the company’s buxom young receptionist, who today is wearing a pretty pink short-sleeved top and a hairband that makes you think of Nancy Drew.

“Good morning Simon!” she says brightly.

“Good morning!” you reply. Then you add,

“Looking good today, Carol!”
“How are you today?”

Carol blushes. “Thanks – you too!”

You head to your cube in the far corner of the building. Your colleague, Abby, is already sitting at her desk in the adjacent cube. “Morning Abby,” you greet her.

“Good morning Simon,” she says with a smile. She is dressed elegantly, as usual, in a wide-collared blouse and black trousers. She is an attractive woman in her late twenties, with brown hair whose curls dance about her shoulders whenever she laughs.

You sit down, switch on your laptop, and start on your day’s work. The morning passes uneventfully, until at about ten o’clock you see Abby getting up. Knowing her habit of getting herself a mug of coffee at this time, you...

decide to accompany her and get a coffee of your own.
smile at her as she passes.

“I’m good thanks,” says Carol. “How about you?”

“Just living the dream,” you reply with a grin. “Have a good day, Carol.”

You head to your cube in the far corner of the building. Your colleague, Abby, is already sitting at her desk in the adjacent cube. “Morning Abby,” you greet her.

“Good morning Simon,” she says with a smile. She is dressed elegantly, as usual, in a wide-collared blouse and black trousers. She is an attractive woman in her late twenties, with brown hair whose curls dance about her shoulders whenever she laughs.

You sit down, switch on your laptop, and start on your day’s work. Catching up with emails and getting your usual morning tasks accomplished takes you until about ten o’clock, at which time you see Abby getting up. Knowing her habit of getting herself a mug of coffee at this time, you...

decide to accompany her and get a coffee of your own.
smile at her as she passes.

Abby seems happy to have your company in the kitchen, and she chats to you about her husband, Steve, and dog, Sebastian. From previous conversations you know that Steve is paraplegic, and although he is quite capable of looking after himself, he is currently out of work and the two of them are struggling a little, financially. Nevertheless Abby remains upbeat.

When she finally pauses for breath, you...

crack a joke.
compliment her.

The rest of the morning passes uneventfully. At lunchtime you leave the office and go to...

the local climbing gym.
Ottoman Optics.

She laughs. “Oh Simon, you’re too funny!” she says. “Anyway, better get back to the grindstone!”

“Yup,” you agree, and the two of you go back to your cubes.

Continue.

She smiles. “Thanks,” she says. “I do try my best! Anyway, better get back to the grindstone!”

“Yup,” you agree, and the two of you go back to your cubes.

Continue.

You drive to the climbing gym, take your gym bag inside, and change in their locker room. Having laced up your climbing shoes, you walk out to the bouldering area and pick out a tricky-looking V4 to begin with.

Nearby, a young man is attempting to coach his girlfriend through a V2 which is clearly beyond her ability. You have seen the two of them here before, and his treatment of her always bothers you. He scolds her as if she were a child, but she never complains; perhaps she is afraid of him, or maybe she just really wants to please him. Either way, it does not look like a healthy relationship.

After half an hour’s climbing on various different ascents, you reluctantly go back to the locker room to change. Half an hour is never enough, but it does give your arms and fingers a good workout. Leaving the gym, you get back into your car, and return to the office.

Continue.

You drive to Red Creek Mall, and park outside your favourite shop. You are not planning to buy anything, but you love to see what new stuff they have. Once in a while you might buy a new eyepiece or filter for your telescope, or a new gadget for your camera, but today you will content yourself with browsing.

“Good morning Simon!” says Sabrina, the curvaceous young woman behind the checkout counter. Her dark hair, dark eyes, and pale but distinctly Middle-Eastern complexion make you wonder if she is Turkish, like her boss.

“Hi Sabrina,” you reply with a smile.

“Mr Dale!” says Mahmoud, approaching from the rear of the store with his arms spread wide. “How nice to see you again!” His short, pale grey hair and bushy moustache suggest an age of about sixty.

“Hello Mahmoud,” you say. “Just browsing today I’m afraid.”

“Not a problem, not a problem!” the man replies, walking over to stand next to Sabrina. “Just let us know if you need any help.” He is standing very close to his employee, his left arm hidden behind her back. She stiffens suddenly, her eyes widening.

“I will,” you assure him, wondering what just happened. You turn away and begin exploring the shelves and stands.

After you have browsed for a while, you go to the desk and chat with Sabrina for a few minutes. Then you say goodbye, leave the shop, and drive back to work.

Continue.

You sit back down at your desk and get back to work. At three o’clock, you walk to the Meridian conference room for the daily Operations meeting. Vince and Jess are there already, and as you sit down next to Jess, Patrick walks in, closing the door behind him.

“Good afternoon, lady and gentlemen,” he says.

Jess looks around in confusion. “What lady?” she asks, prompting a polite chuckle from the rest of you. She never seems to tire of making this joke. At thirty-three years of age, the leggy blonde is a confident and unabashedly promiscuous single woman, completely shameless about relating stories of her sexual exploits to a (usually all male) audience of colleagues.

The meeting gets under way, and you present your updates as usual, after Vince but before Patrick. Finally Jess runs through her financial data.

“Thanks Jess,” says Patrick. “Any other business?”

Vince and Jess shake their heads, and when Patrick looks at you, you...

say, “Not unless Jess has any more salacious stories for us...?”
shake your head as well.

Jess laughs, and launches into an amusing tale about an eventful night back in her university days, while Patrick shakes his head in exasperation, and you and Vince listen in rapt attention.

After the story, Patrick clears his throat. “Thank you Jess.”

Continue.

The four of you head back to your respective desks, and you get back to work.

At five o’clock, you bid Abby goodbye, then you leave the office and drive home. On the way, you decide to call...

your mother.
your sister.

“Simon!” says your mother happily. “I was just thinking about you. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine thanks Mom,” you reply, and then you spend the next few minutes listening to all the gossip she has gleaned from her Facebook groups.

As you pull into the parking lot outside your building, she is still prattling away. “Mom, I need to get going,” you tell her gently.

“Oh, of course,” she says. “Well, have a good evening. Call me again soon!”

“I will,” you promise her. “Bye Mom.”

“Goodbye Simon!”

You hang up, get out of the car, and head inside.

Continue.

“Hi Simon!” says Denise.

“How’s my favourite little sister?” you ask her.

“Not bad,” she says, sounding slightly uncomfortable.

You raise an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

She is silent for a moment. Then, “I don’t want you to be mad,” she says.

“Why would I be mad?” you inquire.

“Well I know how protective you are of me,” she says. “But please promise you won’t try to get involved or give me a lecture.”

“I’ll be as supportive and nice as I possibly can be,” you assure her. “What’s up?”

She sighs. “I wasn’t very keen on our last improv. session,” she says. “Dan, our coach, was playing the part of a sleazeball executive, and I was playing an intern at his company. And he ... well, he pulled me on to his lap and ... groped me.”

“What??” you bark, adrenaline surging as your body prepares to do battle.

“Don’t overreact!” says Denise hastily. “I don’t need you to come to my defence, Simon. I probably shouldn’t have told you...”

“But...” You are almost speechless with anger. “Is there someone you can report him to?”

“No!” says Denise firmly. “I don’t want to become known as a troublemaker before I even get started as an actress!”

“Then can you find a different class?” you suggest. “With a different coach?”

“I really can’t,” says Denise, sounding regretful. “Dan’s class is the best in town; it’s widely known to be a stepping stone to a solid acting career. He has a good track record, and a ton of industry contacts. I can’t afford to get on his bad side.”

“All right,” you say grudgingly. “At least tell him you’re not okay with him groping you, though. How bad was this grope?”

Denise hesitates. “He, uh, grabbed my boob through my top and gave it a squeeze.”

“Jesus!” you exclaim, horrified.

“Don’t freak out!” says Denise anxiously. “I’ll handle it, okay? I’ll talk to him.”

“Okay,” you say dubiously. “Let me know how that goes. Please?”

“I will,” she promises. “Anyway, enough about me. What have you been up to lately?”

The two of you chat about less consequential things, until you pull into the parking lot outside your building. “Well, I’m home,” you say.

“Okay, I’ll let you go,” says Denise. “Call me again soon?”

“Count on it,” you tell her. “Bye sis.”

“Bye Simon!”

You hang up, get out of the car, and head inside.

Continue.

You take the elevator up to your floor, unlock your apartment door, and go inside.

“Hey Simon,” says Bugsy, looking up from the couch. “Pizza?” He indicates an open pizza box on the cushion next to him.

You regard the droopy, greasy, unappetizing-looking pizza wedges remaining in the box, and reply,

“Sure, why not?”
“I think I’ll pass.”

You sit down with Bugsy and watch television while polishing off the rest of the pizza. An hour or so later, you look out of the window. It is getting dark; now would be a good time to...

practise your nighttime photography.
go up to the roof with your telescope.

Pizza is nice to have once in a while, but you need variety. After running through a few different options in your head, and weighing your limited budget against your even more limited cooking ability, as well as your nutritional needs, you decide to...

whip up some macaroni and cheese in the kitchen.
go out for a burger.
go out for a curry.

You fetch your camera, sling your camera bag over your shoulder, and head for the front door. “Just going out for a bit,” you tell Bugsy.

“Okay,” he says. “Don’t fuck anyone I wouldn’t fuck.”

Unlikely, you think to yourself, knowing Bugsy’s low standards. You leave the apartment, ride the elevator down, and exit the building, heading on foot in the direction of the river. It is a nice evening, and the streetlights and buildings create numerous photographic opportunities.

You spend an hour or so taking photos, some turning out better than others. The river shots, with the city lights reflecting off the water, are your favourites. Then you head home.

Bugsy is out, so you watch television alone for a while. Then you get ready for bed, climb between the sheets, and play on your phone for a bit. Eventually you put the phone on your bedside table, close your eyes, and go to sleep...

Continue.

Your telescope is heavy, and you grimace a little as you carry it to the front door. “Can you get the door please?” you ask Bugsy.

He jumps up, and opens the door. “Enjoy your astrology,” he says, grinning.

You do not take the bait; Bugsy is well aware of the difference between astrology and astronomy. “Thanks,” you mutter.

Lugging the telescope, as well as its accessories in a bag slung over your shoulder, to the elevator, you go up to the top floor, and then – with some difficulty – climb the steps up to the roof.

Setting up the telescope takes a few minutes. The sky, a uniform dark orange from the glow of city lights, is pretty wretched for stargazing, but you have filters that compensate for that, somewhat.

Using your star charts, you set yourself a few challenges, including a planetary nebula, a globular cluster, an open cluster, a galaxy, and an asteroid. By using the few stars you can make out with the naked eye, and some careful star-hopping, you manage to find all of your targets. The asteroid is trickiest, since it looks just like a distant star, but you locate it nonetheless. As you find each object, you note it down in your log.

Eventually you pack up and carry everything back inside, and down to your floor. Having let yourself in, you contrive to hold the door open while you carry the telescope across the threshold.

Bugsy is out, so you watch television alone for a while. Then you get ready for bed, climb between the sheets, and play on your phone for a bit. Eventually you put the phone on your bedside table, close your eyes, and go to sleep...

Continue.

You pull out a packet of Kraft Mac & Cheese, and start heating up some water. Twenty minutes or so later, you are sitting down in the living room with your dinner in a deep ceramic bowl.

You watch television with Bugsy while you eat, but then you get up and go through to the kitchen to wash the dishes. This does not take long, and afterwards, you look out of the window. It is getting dark; now would be a good time to...

practise your nighttime photography.
go up to the roof with your telescope.

It is a short walk to Barrow’s Diner, your burger joint of choice. Having taken a seat, you are not kept waiting long before Bella, your favourite waitress, comes over with a big smile on her face. She is in her late teens, is slim and pretty, and invariably wears her neatly-parted blonde hair in two braids. Her pink uniform is pleasingly short, coming down to mid-thigh, and includes a little white apron. She also wears white pumps, and a pair of glasses with pink rims. “Hi!” she says. “What can I get for you?”

“Burger and fries please Bella,” you reply. “And one of those amazing strawberry milkshakes.”

She grins. “Sure!” she says. “No tomato, right?”

“You remembered!” you say happily. “Thank you.”

She giggles and turns on her heel, walking away with a flounce that makes the back of her uniform flip up slightly. You shiver as you watch her bare thighs retreat. She is a lovely girl.

Not long after, she brings you your food and drink, and then attends to her next customer – a broad-shouldered and bull-necked cop whom you have seen here a few times before. You hear him greet Bella with an off-colour remark, and you scowl to yourself as you see Bella blush and squirm.

But it is none of your business, and you know better than to tangle with a cop. You eat your food, pay your bill, and leave the diner.

Back in the apartment, you watch television with Bugsy for a few minutes, but his choice of viewing does not interest you. Feeling bored, you look out of the window. It is getting dark; now would be a good time to...

practise your nighttime photography.
go up to the roof with your telescope.

You drive to Bengal Palace, which is about a mile from your apartment. As you enter the restaurant, you are greeted by its owner, Kenny Sharma, a jovial middle-aged Bengali man. His daughter, Rani, takes your order and then glides away almost silently, her long sari concealing even her feet. She is a pretty young woman, if slightly overweight, but she seems almost painfully shy.

After you have finished your meal, you pay Kenny with your debit card, say goodbye to him and to Rani, and then you leave the restaurant and drive home.

Back in the apartment, you watch television with Bugsy for a few minutes, but his choice of viewing does not interest you. Feeling bored, you look out of the window. It is getting dark; now would be a good time to...

practise your nighttime photography.
go up to the roof with your telescope.

You awaken to the sound of your phone loudly playing “By the Seaside” at you from across the room.

“Ugh, shut up,” you groan, dragging yourself out of bed and stumbling over to your desk to switch it off.

You would love to sleep longer, but you are on your feet now. You yawn, stretch, and go to the bathroom to pee and brush your teeth. Since you have plenty of time before you need to get ready for work, you decide to...

go for a run.
head to the gym.

You put on your running clothes and leave your apartment, with your keys in one pocket and your phone in the other. Taking the elevator down to the ground floor, you leave the building and begin your run.

Your route takes you along the edge of the parking lot, down a paved path with a chain-link fence on one side, then into Truman Park, a wide expanse of grass dotted with a handful of oak trees. All the way around the park you run, occasionally meeting other people coming the other way, or overtaking people going in the same direction as you. This is a popular spot for runners.

Eventually, sweating and panting for breath, you make your way back to your apartment building, and take the elevator up to your floor.

Continue.

You put on your gym clothes and leave your apartment, with your keys in one pocket and your phone in the other. Taking the elevator down to the basement, you find the gym empty, as usual.

You spend half an hour lifting weights and getting as comprehensive a workout as the limited equipment will allow. Towards the end of your session, your next-door neighbour Clay Ferrell enters the room. Unsurprisingly he is wearing a white tank top with enormous arm-holes, along with a pair of long cotton shorts. “Hey man,” he says.

“Sup Clay,” you reply, a little shortly.

He attempts to engage you in conversation, but you are trying to stay focused on your workout, and keep your replies laconic. Also, the man just rubs you the wrong way.

“Have a good one,” you tell him, as you head for the door.

“You too man,” he replies.

You take the elevator back up to your floor.

Continue.

“Shower time,” you mutter, as you enter your apartment.

The shower refreshes and invigorates you. After you have dried yourself, you get dressed and make yourself some coffee. As it is percolating, you grab a Danish and some blueberry yogurt from the fridge.

Your friend and roommate Bugsy shuffles out of his room, scratching his scalp through a tousled mop of ginger hair. “Morning Simon,” he mumbles.

“Good morning Bugsy!” you say cheerfully. “Another late night?”

Bugsy chuckles. “Yeah,” he confesses. “I was playing Battle Storm.”

You nod, and take a sip of your coffee as you sit down at the kitchen table with your food. Bugsy gets himself some coffee too, then he takes it into the living room and sits down in front of the television.

After breakfast, you get dressed, shave, comb your hair, and splash on some aftershave. “Have a good day, Bugsy!” you say, and then you head out with your bag and keys.

The drive to your office takes about ten minutes. As you walk in through the front door, you smile at Carol, who today is wearing a short-sleeved top and a Nancy Drew hairband.

“Good morning Simon!” she says brightly.

“Good morning!” you reply. Then you add,

“Looking good today, Carol!”
“How are you today?”

Carol blushes. “Thanks – you too!”

You head to your cube in the far corner of the building. Abby is already sitting at her desk in the adjacent cube. “Morning Abby,” you greet her.

“Good morning Simon,” she says with a smile. She is dressed elegantly, as usual, in a wide-collared blouse and black trousers.

You sit down, switch on your laptop, and start on your day’s work. The morning passes uneventfully, until at about ten o’clock you see Abby getting up. Knowing her habit of getting herself a mug of coffee at this time, you...

decide to accompany her and get a coffee of your own.
smile at her as she passes.

“I’m good thanks,” says Carol. “How about you?”

“Just living the dream,” you reply with a grin. “Have a good day, Carol.”

You head to your cube in the far corner of the building. Abby is already sitting at her desk in the adjacent cube. “Morning Abby,” you greet her.

“Good morning Simon,” she says with a smile. She is dressed elegantly, as usual, in a wide-collared blouse and black trousers.

You sit down, switch on your laptop, and start on your day’s work. Catching up with emails and getting your usual morning tasks accomplished takes you until about ten o’clock, at which time you see Abby getting up. Knowing her habit of getting herself a mug of coffee at this time, you...

decide to accompany her and get a coffee of your own.
smile at her as she passes.

Abby seems happy to have your company in the kitchen, and she chats to you about her paraplegic husband, Steve, and her two-year-old Dalmatian, Sebastian. With Steve currently out of work, the two of them are struggling a little, but Abby normally manages to stay positive and cheerful nonetheless. Today, however, she seems a little downcast.

“Something’s bothering you,” you remark. “What’s wrong?”

Abby smiles sheepishly. “Nothing,” she says evasively. “I’m just ... tired.”

You raise an eyebrow. “It’s more than that,” you say. “Come on – is it Craig?”

Her hesitation tells you all you need to know. “That asshole,” you growl. “What’s he done now?”

“Nothing,” she says hastily. “Don’t worry about it – I don’t want you getting into trouble.”

“Abby,” you say sternly, “maybe I can help you and maybe I can’t. But wouldn’t you like to be able to vent to someone, at the very least? To have someone know what you’re going through? Someone on your side?”

She smiles gratefully. “I guess it would,” she says. “The fact is, he summoned me into his office this morning, shortly after I got here, and he scolded me for not having the CBA report done yet. I think it was just a pretext to get me alone – he doesn’t need the report until tomorrow. But then he suggested that a ‘good spanking’ would probably motivate me to work faster, and he put his arm around my shoulders while he said it. He was practically whispering it into my ear – it was gross.”

“Yikes!” you say, appalled. “What did you do?”

“I told him I would get the report for him by noon today,” says Abby, with a shudder. “But then ... oh god ... he invited himself to dinner.”

You frown. “With you and Steve?”

Abby nods. “I said I didn’t think it would be appropriate, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer! He said he wanted to meet Steve, and that some socialising outside of the office would be good for our working relationship.” She sighs. “He made a sort of veiled threat, too. In the end, I didn’t feel like I could refuse. So I said he could come over for dinner this weekend...”

“Oh no!” you gasp. “I’m so sorry, Abby!”

“Me too,” says Abby ruefully. “I guess I’ll just have to make the best of it. I don’t know what his game is, but I’m really quite anxious about the idea!”

You nod. “I’m sure,” you say. Then, to change the subject and lighten the mood, you...

crack a joke.
compliment her.

The rest of the morning passes uneventfully. At lunchtime you leave the office and go to...

the local climbing gym.
Ottoman Optics.

She laughs. “Oh Simon, you’re too funny!” she says. “Anyway, better get back to the grindstone!”

“Yup,” you agree, and the two of you go back to your cubes.

Continue.

She smiles. “Thanks,” she says. “I do try my best! Anyway, better get back to the grindstone!”

“Yup,” you agree, and the two of you go back to your cubes.

Continue.

You drive to the climbing gym, take your gym bag inside, and change in their locker room. Having laced up your climbing shoes, you walk out to the bouldering area and pick out a tricky-looking V4 to begin with.

Nearby, a young man is attempting to coach his girlfriend through a V2 which is clearly beyond her ability. You have seen the two of them here before, and his treatment of her always bothers you. He scolds her as if she were a child, but she never complains; perhaps she is afraid of him, or maybe she just really wants to please him. Either way, it does not look like a healthy relationship.

After half an hour’s climbing on various different ascents, you reluctantly go back to the locker room to change. Half an hour is never enough, but it does give your arms and fingers a good workout. Leaving the gym, you get back into your car, and return to the office.

Continue.

You drive to Red Creek Mall, and park outside your favourite shop. You are not planning to buy anything, but you love to see what new stuff they have. Once in a while you might buy a new eyepiece or filter for your telescope, or a new gadget for your camera, but today you will content yourself with browsing.

“Good morning Simon!” says Sabrina, the curvaceous young woman behind the checkout counter. Her dark hair, dark eyes, and pale but distinctly Middle-Eastern complexion make you wonder if she is Turkish, like her boss.

“Hi Sabrina,” you reply with a smile.

“Mr Dale!” says Mahmoud, approaching from the rear of the store with his arms spread wide. “How nice to see you again!” His short, pale grey hair and bushy moustache suggest an age of about sixty.

“Hello Mahmoud,” you say. “Just browsing today I’m afraid.”

“Not a problem, not a problem!” the man replies, walking over to stand next to Sabrina. “Just let us know if you need any help.” He is standing very close to his employee, his left arm hidden behind her back. She stiffens suddenly, her eyes widening.

“I will,” you assure him, wondering what just happened. You turn away and begin exploring the shelves and stands.

After you have browsed for a while, you go to the desk and chat with Sabrina for a few minutes. Then you say goodbye, leave the shop, and drive back to work.

Continue.

You sit back down at your desk and get back to work. At three o’clock, you walk to the Meridian conference room for the daily Operations meeting. Vince and Jess are there already, and as you sit down next to Jess, Patrick walks in, closing the door behind him.

“Good afternoon, lady and gentlemen,” he says.

Jess looks around in confusion. “What lady?” she asks, prompting a polite chuckle from the rest of you.

The meeting gets under way, and you present your updates as usual, after Vince but before Patrick. Finally Jess runs through her financial data.

“Thanks Jess,” says Patrick. “Any other business?”

Vince and Jess shake their heads, and when Patrick looks at you, you...

say, “Not unless Jess has any more salacious stories for us...?”
shake your head as well.

Jess laughs, and launches into an amusing tale about an eventful night back in her university days, while Patrick shakes his head in exasperation, and you and Vince listen in rapt attention.

After the story, Patrick clears his throat. “Thank you Jess.”

Continue.

The four of you head back to your respective desks, and you get back to work.

At five o’clock, you bid Abby goodbye, then you leave the office and drive home. On the way, you decide to call...

your mother.
your sister.

“Simon!” says your mother happily. “I was just thinking about you. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine thanks Mom,” you reply, and then you spend the next few minutes listening to all the gossip she has gleaned from her Facebook groups.

As you pull into the parking lot outside your building, she is still prattling away. “Mom, I need to get going,” you tell her gently.

“Oh, of course,” she says. “Well, have a good evening. Call me again soon!”

“I will,” you promise her. “Bye Mom.”

“Goodbye Simon!”

You hang up, get out of the car, and head inside.

Continue.

“Hi Simon!” says Denise.

“How’s my favourite little sister?” you ask her.

“Not bad,” she says, sounding slightly uncomfortable.

“Uh-huh,” you reply sceptically. “Did you talk to Dan yet?”

“Not yet,” she says, “but I will! I promise.”

“Okay,” you say. “Let me know how it goes.”

The two of you chat for a while, until you pull into the parking lot outside your building. “Well, I’m home,” you say.

“Okay, I’ll let you go,” says Denise. “Call me again soon?”

“Count on it,” you tell her. “Bye sis.”

“Bye Simon!”

You hang up, get out of the car, and head inside.

Continue.

You take the elevator up to your floor, unlock your apartment door, and go inside.

“Hey Simon,” says Bugsy, looking up from the couch. “Pizza?” He indicates an open pizza box on the cushion next to him.

You regard the droopy, greasy pizza wedges remaining in the box, and reply,

“Sure, why not?”
“I think I’ll pass.”

You sit down with Bugsy and watch television while polishing off the rest of the pizza. An hour or so later, you look out of the window. It is getting dark; now would be a good time to...

practise your nighttime photography.
go up to the roof with your telescope.

Pizza is nice to have once in a while, but you need variety. After running through a few different options in your head, and weighing your limited budget against your even more limited cooking ability, as well as your nutritional needs, you decide to...

whip up some macaroni and cheese in the kitchen.
go out for a burger.
go out for a curry.

You fetch your camera, sling your camera bag over your shoulder, and head for the front door. “Just going out for a bit,” you tell Bugsy.

“Okay,” he says. “Don’t fuck anyone I wouldn’t fuck.”

Unlikely, you think to yourself, knowing Bugsy’s low standards. You leave the apartment, ride the elevator down, and exit the building, heading on foot in the direction of the river. It is a nice evening, and the streetlights and buildings create numerous photographic opportunities.

You spend an hour or so taking photos, some turning out better than others. The river shots, with the city lights reflecting off the water, are your favourites. Then you head home.

Bugsy is out, so you watch television alone for a while. Then you get ready for bed, climb between the sheets, and play on your phone for a bit. Eventually you put the phone on your bedside table, close your eyes, and go to sleep...

Continue.

Your telescope is heavy, and you grimace a little as you carry it to the front door. “Can you get the door please?” you ask Bugsy.

He jumps up, and opens the door. “Enjoy your astrology,” he says, grinning.

You do not take the bait; Bugsy is well aware of the difference between astrology and astronomy. “Thanks,” you mutter.

Lugging the telescope, as well as its accessories in a bag slung over your shoulder, to the elevator, you go up to the top floor, and then – with some difficulty – climb the steps up to the roof.

Setting up the telescope takes a few minutes. The sky, a uniform dark orange from the glow of city lights, is pretty wretched for stargazing, but you have filters that compensate for that, somewhat.

Using your star charts, you set yourself a few challenges, including a planetary nebula, a globular cluster, an open cluster, a galaxy, and an asteroid. By using the few stars you can make out with the naked eye, and some careful star-hopping, you manage to find all of your targets. The asteroid is trickiest, since it looks just like a distant star, but you locate it nonetheless. As you find each object, you note it down in your log.

Eventually you pack up and carry everything back inside, and down to your floor. Having let yourself in, you contrive to hold the door open while you carry the telescope across the threshold.

Bugsy is out, so you watch television alone for a while. Then you get ready for bed, climb between the sheets, and play on your phone for a bit. Eventually you put the phone on your bedside table, close your eyes, and go to sleep...

Continue.

You pull out a packet of Kraft Mac & Cheese, and start heating up some water. Twenty minutes or so later, you are sitting down in the living room with your dinner in a deep ceramic bowl.

You watch television with Bugsy while you eat, but then you get up and go through to the kitchen to wash the dishes. This does not take long, and afterwards, you look out of the window. It is getting dark; now would be a good time to...

practise your nighttime photography.
go up to the roof with your telescope.

It is a short walk to Barrow’s Diner, your burger joint of choice. Having taken a seat, you are not kept waiting long before Bella, your favourite waitress, comes over with a big smile on her face. She is in her late teens, is slim and pretty, and invariably wears her neatly-parted blonde hair in two braids. Her pink uniform is pleasingly short, coming down to mid-thigh, and includes a little white apron. She also wears white pumps, and a pair of glasses with pink rims. “Hi!” she says. “What can I get for you?”

“Burger and fries please Bella,” you reply. “And one of those amazing strawberry milkshakes.”

She grins. “Sure!” she says. “No tomato, right?”

“You remembered!” you say happily. “Thank you.”

She giggles and turns on her heel, walking away with a flounce that makes the back of her uniform flip up slightly. You shiver as you watch her bare thighs retreat. She is a lovely girl.

Not long after, she brings you your food and drink, and then attends to her next customer – a broad-shouldered and bull-necked cop whom you have seen here a few times before. You hear him greet Bella with an off-colour remark, and you scowl to yourself as you see Bella blush and squirm.

But it is none of your business, and you know better than to tangle with a cop. You eat your food, pay your bill, and leave the diner.

Back in the apartment, you watch television with Bugsy for a few minutes, but his choice of viewing does not interest you. Feeling bored, you look out of the window. It is getting dark; now would be a good time to...

practise your nighttime photography.
go up to the roof with your telescope.

You drive to Bengal Palace, which is about a mile from your apartment. As you enter the restaurant, you are greeted by its owner, Kenny Sharma, a jovial middle-aged Bengali man. His daughter, Rani, takes your order and then glides away almost silently, her long sari concealing even her feet. She is a pretty young woman, if slightly overweight, but she seems almost painfully shy.

After you have finished your meal, you pay Kenny with your debit card, say goodbye to him and to Rani, and then you leave the restaurant and drive home.

Back in the apartment, you watch television with Bugsy for a few minutes, but his choice of viewing does not interest you. Feeling bored, you look out of the window. It is getting dark; now would be a good time to...

practise your nighttime photography.
go up to the roof with your telescope.

You awaken to the sound of your phone loudly playing “By the Seaside” at you from across the room.

“All right, I’m coming,” you groan, dragging yourself out of bed and stumbling over to your desk to switch it off.

You would love to sleep longer, but you are on your feet now. You yawn, stretch, and go to the bathroom to pee and brush your teeth. Since you have plenty of time before you need to get ready for work, you decide to...

go for a run.
head to the gym.

You put on your running clothes and leave your apartment, with your keys in one pocket and your phone in the other. Taking the elevator down to the ground floor, you leave the building and begin your run.

Your route takes you along the edge of the parking lot, down a paved path with a chain-link fence on one side, then into Truman Park, a wide expanse of grass dotted with a handful of oak trees. All the way around the park you run, occasionally meeting other people coming the other way, or overtaking people going in the same direction as you. This is a popular spot for runners.

Eventually, sweating and panting for breath, you make your way back to your apartment building, and take the elevator up to your floor.

Continue.

You put on your gym clothes and leave your apartment, with your keys in one pocket and your phone in the other. Taking the elevator down to the basement, you find the gym empty, as usual.

You spend half an hour lifting weights and getting as comprehensive a workout as the limited equipment will allow. Towards the end of your session, your next-door neighbour Clay Ferrell enters the room. Unsurprisingly he is wearing a white tank top with enormous arm-holes, along with a pair of long cotton shorts. “Hey man,” he says.

“Sup Clay,” you reply, a little shortly.

He attempts to engage you in conversation, but you are trying to stay focused on your workout, and keep your replies laconic. Also, the man just rubs you the wrong way.

“Have a good one,” you tell him, as you head for the door.

“You too man,” he replies.

You take the elevator back up to your floor.

Continue.

“Shower time,” you mutter, as you enter your apartment.

The shower refreshes and invigorates you. After you have dried yourself, you get dressed and make yourself some coffee. As it is percolating, you grab a Danish and some blueberry yogurt from the fridge.

Your friend and roommate Bugsy shuffles out of his room, scratching his scalp through a tousled mop of ginger hair. “Morning Simon,” he mumbles.

“Good morning Bugsy!” you say cheerfully. “Another late night?”

Bugsy chuckles. “Yeah,” he confesses. “Battle Storm again.”

You nod, and take a sip of your coffee as you sit down at the kitchen table with your food. Bugsy gets himself some coffee too, then he takes it into the living room and sits down in front of the television.

After breakfast, you get dressed, shave, comb your hair, and splash on some aftershave. “Have a good day, Bugsy!” you say, and then you head out with your bag and keys.

The drive to your office takes about ten minutes. As you walk in through the front door, you smile at Carol, who today is wearing a form-fitting blouse and a matching hairband.

“Good morning Simon!” she says brightly.

“Good morning!” you reply. Then you add,

“Looking good today, Carol!”
“How are you today?”

Carol blushes. “Thanks – you too!”

You head to your cube in the far corner of the building. Abby is already sitting at her desk in the adjacent cube. “Morning Abby,” you greet her.

“Good morning Simon,” she says with a smile. She is dressed elegantly, as usual, in a wide-collared blouse and black trousers.

You sit down, switch on your laptop, and start on your day’s work. The morning passes uneventfully, until at about ten o’clock you see Abby getting up. Knowing her habit of getting herself a mug of coffee at this time, you...

decide to accompany her and get a coffee of your own.
smile at her as she passes.

“I’m good thanks,” says Carol. “How about you?”

“Just living the dream,” you reply with a grin. “Have a good day, Carol.”

You head to your cube in the far corner of the building. Abby is already sitting at her desk in the adjacent cube. “Morning Abby,” you greet her.

“Good morning Simon,” she says with a smile. She is dressed elegantly, as usual, in a wide-collared blouse and black trousers.

You sit down, switch on your laptop, and start on your day’s work. Catching up with emails and getting your usual morning tasks accomplished takes you until about ten o’clock, at which time you see Abby getting up. Knowing her habit of getting herself a mug of coffee at this time, you...

decide to accompany her and get a coffee of your own.
smile at her as she passes.

Abby seems happy to have your company in the kitchen, and she chats to you about her husband and her dog. She is obviously avoiding talking about Craig, but you are impatient for an update.

“Anything new on the boss front?” you inquire carefully.

Abby bites her lip, then shakes her head. “Not really,” she says. “I’m still dreading this dinner he invited himself to.”

You nod. You suspect there is something she is not telling you – some minor transgression perhaps, on Craig’s part – but there is no need to probe her for every last detail. She knows you are here for her, if she needs to talk.

Instead, in an attempt to lighten the mood, you...

crack a joke.
compliment her.

The rest of the morning passes uneventfully. At lunchtime you leave the office and go to...

the local climbing gym.
Ottoman Optics.

She chuckles. “Oh Simon,” she says. “Anyway, better get back to the grindstone.”

“Yup,” you agree, and the two of you go back to your cubes.

Continue.

She smiles. “Thanks,” she says. “I do try my best! Anyway, better get back to the grindstone!”

“Yup,” you agree, and the two of you go back to your cubes.

Continue.

You drive to the climbing gym, take your gym bag inside, and change in their locker room. Having laced up your climbing shoes, you walk out to the bouldering area and pick out a tricky-looking V4 to begin with.

Nearby, a young man is attempting to coach his girlfriend through a V1, and getting frustrated with her lack of progress. You have seen the two of them here before, and his treatment of her always bothers you. He scolds her as if she were a child, but she never complains; perhaps she is afraid of him, or maybe she just really wants to please him. Either way, it does not look like a healthy relationship.

What is especially annoying is that he is not even giving her good directions. He himself compensates for his lack of technique with brute strength, but she does not have the muscle to do the same. Eventually, you feel compelled to speak.

“Dude,” you tell him. “There’s no reason she can’t do this climb, but you’re teaching her all wrong.”

He stares at you, his fists balling. “Who the fuck asked you?” he demands.

“Sorry, I know it’s not my place,” you say, “but I just couldn’t stay silent any longer. There’s a better way to do this climb – one that doesn’t require so much brute strength.”

For a moment, it seems like the man is preparing to take a swing at you. But then, to your surprise, he backs down. “Be my guest,” he says, gesturing at the wall.

You smile at him, then at his girlfriend. “My name’s Simon,” you say, extending your hand.

“Roland,” he replies, shaking it. “And this is Jewel.”

Roland reminds you a little of your next-door neighbour, Clay. Though they are quite different facially, both are short, compact, muscular men who fancy themselves as tough guys. Jewel, on the other hand, looks like a cheerleader – she is slim and pretty, with an abundance of blonde wavy hair.

“Nice to meet you both,” you say. “Now check this out.” You place your hands on the first two holds, and your feet on footholds below. Reaching up, you grab a higher hold, pull yourself up, and plant your right foot on another hold. “Now,” you say, “here’s where you muscle up to that next handhold, Roland, which Jewel can’t do. But watch this.” You switch feet, and place your right foot on the angled bare wall to the right. “By pushing off from the wall, you can pivot yourself up to the next hold, like this.” You push with your foot, and easily grab the next handhold. “Then up with the right foot, left foot over here, and the rest is easy.”

You jump down. “Wanna give it a go, Jewel?”

Jewel looks at Roland, who nods. Stepping up to the wall, she places her hands and feet, then follows your movements, slowly and methodically. When she reaches the tricky part that has been defeating her up until now, she switches feet, just as you did, though a little more clumsily. For an awful moment you fear she might slip off, but she quickly corrects, and then places her right foot on the angled wall.

She pushes off, and reaches the upper handhold. “I did it!” she says excitedly.

“Nice,” you tell her. “You’re on the home stretch now!”

A few moments later, she has both hands on the topmost hold. “Congratulations!” you say.

As Jewel descends, Roland looks less pleased, but he gruffly says “Well done.”

Jewel’s eyes are shining. She looks at you with a big smile of gratitude. “Thank you!” she says. “That was a good tip!”

Roland purses his lips. “All right Simon,” he says, “since you seem pretty experienced, would you mind helping me out with a V3 I’ve been struggling with?”

“Not at all,” you reply, “though I should warn you, I don’t have a magic fix for everything. And I’m by no means the best climber here.”

He leads you over to the back wall, which is inclined backwards at an angle of almost 45 degrees. “It’s the pink one,” he says.

“Ah yes.” You nod. “I bet I know which bit you’re having a hard time with.” You give him a couple of tips, and this time he manages the ascent. When he comes back down, he is all smiles. “Thank you!” he says. “I never thought to try hooking my heel behind the hold like that.”

“You’re welcome,” you say. “Now if you’ll excuse me, unfortunately I have to get back to work. Have fun!”

“Bye Simon,” says Jewel with a warm smile.

“Later dude,” says Roland.

You head to the locker room, and change back into your work clothes. Then you leave the gym, and drive back to the office.

Continue.