All work and no play

Chase ran his fingers through his hair for the thousandth time that day, feeling the collective grease and stink that came from having not bathed for four days straight. He'd received a request from a large company for several set-piece stills done in water paints and had been driving himself up the wall for the past two and half weeks try to meet the requirements.

So far the singular positive thing about the client was that they were willing pay whatever he was asking for supplies and materials, and had promised a nice check that would cover three month's worth of his expenses if they were ever satisfied with the product.

That single positivity aside, this was the single most difficult client Chase had ever had the displeasure of working with. Every single piece had something wrong, no matter how many times Chase tried to clear everything ahead of time.

This forest was designed wrong. That waterfall needed to be taller. That mine should have fewer cobwebs. These gears should be featured less prominently and more frequently throughout the cityscape.

And on and on and on the criticism went. Chase had lost his temper after the call this morning and chucked his phone across the apartment, denting his wall and angering the neighbors, who had threatened to call the landlord over "all the noise."

Honestly, difficult clients weren't really anything new. Chase had dealt with them before and would no doubt have to do so again, but the argument he'd overheard at the church, followed by the subsequent brushing off of his concerns and firing of Leo had left him with a pounding headache that even two and half weeks worth of ibuprofen couldn't seem to lessen. And of course the preverbal cherry on the stress-sundae that had been his life recently was that he still wasn't able to sleep.

He'd tried taking at least three different types of medication he'd bought from a drug store but all they did was make him groggy instead of actually keeping him asleep. And while he was exhausted enough to have passed out sitting up, he couldn't seem to stay that way for more than an hour or so. Altogether it meant that he was getting more and more irritable as time went on.

However, there was a small silver lining around the darkening cloud was that he had at least made things well again with next door's Mrs. Hoffman. While she was still a little stiffer than she had been beforehand, they had met a few days ago, and when he confessed his dream to her, she was kind enough to pray with him over it. Overall, by the time she'd left she was in a considerably better mood, and Chase was grateful for that if nothing else.

Currently he was mixing and re-mixing different shades of greens, and a touch of blues, to try and get the forest leaves the correct color for his client.

Even though I'm sure he's going to find something else wrong with it when the time comes, Chase thought to himself bitterly, trying to brighten the trees a little without completely destroying the lines he'd already drawn.

He groaned and stood, looking around his apartment for what seemed the first time in days. Empty food containers and cups of coffee that had long ago grown stale and cold lay everywhere. Each of his three plates were covered in crumbs and bits of food. His kitchen table in the other room fared no better, Chase knew; and he didn't even want to think of the state his trash can was in. So, resigning himself to the fact that this was yet another day he wouldn't finish this project, he began to clean up.

He flipped on the news, rubbing his hand over his face, and was slightly surprised to realize it was Thursday again. It was as he began dumping out cup after cup of old, cold coffee that he heard the reporter reference a story they'd covered at the end of January about a group of people who'd broken out of an inpatient clinic a the hospital in St. Louis.

Chase thought back on what he could remember of the story when it had still been breaking news.

Apparently one of the patients had organized a breakout and gone on something of a killing spree, setting up the other patients to be killed in way that corresponded to their own mental illness in some way. Someone who had been released from the hospital a day beforehand had been attempting to stop the killings and catch the woman responsible, which he had, but only after she committed suicide and killed her brother.

Apparently the young man's trial was coming up determining his involvement in everything and what his punishment was going to be for his part in the whole mess. Chase grimaced and changed the channel over, catching some old movie he didn't know half-way through. He didn't like the news stories that caught headlines so much these past few weeks. Every story seemed to just make him more and more miserable, and leave him desiring an escape from a life of solitude that had always served him perfectly well.

He scrubbed the cups and plate vigorously as his mind carried him back to the rack's worth of painting that still demanded to be completed in the other room, and why he hadn't been able to complete them yet. A thought came to him as he set his plate in the rack to dry.

He needed a new church.

It wasn't exactly a happy thought, but one that filled him with determination and pressed him to act on it. All through his cleaning rituals, and an eventual shower that was long overdue, Chase cast his mind around, trying to think of any churches he had heard of in the area that he might like. This was a greater problem than it seemed like at first glance.

Chases had come across issues with a church before, only his previous discovery was coming across one of the female ministry leaders having an affair. Chase had brought the knowledge to the church board and the woman's husband only to be dismissed by the first. They had claimed that they couldn't remove the woman because of legal issues, which had been all Chase felt he needed to hear.

It had left him frustrated and he'd been too quick in choosing a new place to worship, apparently. This time, he was determined to find a place he could truly call his church family. Once his place looked somewhat acceptable and he was freshly changed, he pulled out his laptop and began scanning nearby churches. A fair few he was able to eliminate based on size alone.

Too large a church meant that the leaders were likely to be out of touch with their congregation, or worse be concerned only about the number of members and amount of money the tiding was bring in. Others seemed promising until he read closer into their personal beliefs and found himself disagreeing several times over points that they made. Previous to his experience with pastor Alexander that might've been something he'd forgive, but he wasn't in a mood to be brushed off again.

Finally after what was no fewer than three hours of research, he had two good candidates he was excited to check out. Greater Faith and Harvest of Christ. While the messages and mission statements seemed promising he could help but noticed that every church seemed to have the same collect of buzz words to use for a title. It made sense in a way, he supposed. After all, he could imagine Christians lining up for a church called Black Morning or something. It didn't help change the fact that unless you knew the churches intimately they could seem interchangeable, which really wasn't what he was after.

Still, having an action plan for the next couple weeks help provide him with a renewed vigor, and strengthened his resolve. Feeling lighter than he had since his encounter at the church, Chase picked up the draft of the Dwarven City he was supposed to present, and set to work on it.

It certainly wasn't perfect, or completely smooth, but he did begin making progress. Soon two in the afternoon became four, and then eight and it wasn't until he heard the clock in the living room chime midnight that he stood up, realizing just how tired and how hungry he was. He knew that he really wanted to eat something before he went to bed, and he probably should seeing as he hadn't eaten anything that morning either.

However, when he considered the prospect of pulling out all his freshly-cleaned dishes and cooking something, his brain seemed to scream at him in protest. Sighing, he pulled out his phone, and checked what places might still be open at this hour.

The signs weren't good. The only quick place that was open on, what was technically a Friday morning, was a fast-food joint Chase usually avoided. There were a few sit-down places that were open all night but Chase feared that if he sat down and ate he'd pass out at the table, saying nothing of the fact that his brain was so frazzled he wasn't sure he could even read a menu solidly.

He grabbed up his keys, unlocking the car and starting it through the remote starter. After waiting a few minutes for the vehicle to heat up. He head outside to where he was parked, pulling on his overcoat as he did so, grimacing at the rain. In stark contrast to the pleasant morning that March had provided for him on his way to the church, winter simply refused to let go of April and was causing a very cold and wet night to grip the area.

Chase drew his coat tighter around him as the rain doused him, quickly soaking him through his shirt and pants, and made his way to his car. As he climbed in, feeling the warm air wash over him, he made a mental note to thank his sister, Lisa, for her gift of the remote starter last Christmas.

He threw the car in reverse and peered over his shoulder sleepily, already know that there wasn't anyone behind him. That was one advantage of working late nights from time-to-time, roads and stores were deserted, if they were actually open, that is.

His drive to the fast-food place consisted of three turns in total, two lights and one stop sign. Even though he was nearly the only car on the road this time of night, the stoplight leading into his chosen plaza worked on a timer, not a sensor, meaning he had to spend two minutes waiting a light for nobody whatsoever.

As he sat there, listening to the steady whoosh-push, whoosh-push of his windshield wipers. He let his eyes drift across the rainy road. It wasn't exactly a severe storm, but it was plenty enough to make it hard to see clearly, and the lines dictating exactly which lane was which might as well have been invisible for all the good they were doing in this water.

Unbidden a flash of his dream jumped before him, and for a split-second he was not sitting in a warm car, waiting for a light, but running down a rain-soaked bridge, screaming out for a woman not to jump.

Chase shook himself violently, and saw that the light had turned yellow, meaning that it's green glow had come and gone while he had been zoned out. More angry with himself than the light, Chase moved through his left turn, pulling around the building through the drive-thru.

The twenty-something employee that took his order did so in as disinterested a way as possible, making Chase feel as if he'd personally inconvenienced the young man more than caused him to work. Chase didn't mention the man's tone though. After all, anyone working the night shift had rough shifts from time-to-time.

He ordered his food, noting absent-mindedly that even though he'd ordered his sandwich without tomatoes, the employee didn't input it on the screen, which likely meant they would screw it up. Still, he was in no mood to argue or make a fuzz over it, so he merely kept quiet and waited for his meal.

Six minutes later, Chase sat in his leather armchair, eating the food (which, in fact, had required the removal of the tomatoes) and watching a sitcom that had been on the air fifteen years ago, but still made him laugh more than most shows being made. As he chuckled to himself, and leaned back in the armchair, he felt his eyes slowly closing and prayed that he would get a good night's sleep for once.

He didn't.