For Lorin - Intro

The clock struck 11. It was Wednesday again. Why was it always Wednesday, she thought, never Friday, or a delicious Sunday morning. Although of course Wednesday would pass, and out would march Thursday, and the yearned for Friday, and Saturday and so on. But today it was Wednesday, and here she was, and only time could change this. She had been watching the shadows move across the room, the encroaching darkness across the desk, the door gasping in its new found freedom from the grip of darkness. How many Wednesday's had she sat in and out of shadows, wishing it were another day. There had been a time when she would have wished for a day like today, for the quiet, for the space. But today she lacked these sentiments, today it was bothersome and uninvited. She'd been dreaming and the fragments still remained. She was a child again and had found a locked door in her father's house. She had opened it and so wanted to see what was inside, but she couldn't. Her mind wouldn't let her. Her dream could not show her because she had never opened the door as a child. Now at forty six, the key lay before her, accompanied by a note in her father's strong script, 'For Lorin'.