6:59 am
Chance Harper's loft

The clock, although digital, seemed to make the tiniest sound before it flipped quickly to seven. Only a second later, the telephone began to ring.

The shrill sound instantly pierced the warm, comfortable bubble of Chance Harper's dreams. He moved his arm, pulling the comforter up higher over his tousled hair, but it didn't make the sound go away and it didn't let him go back to sleep.

Besides, he'd always been too curious for his own good.

He rolled over, stretching his arm out, looking for the telephone. The mobile handset was lying on the floor right next to the bed. For a sleep-fogged moment he honestly couldn't remember how it had gotten there. He scowled at the clock as he pressed the button and said, "Hello?"

"Chance! What's up?"

He closed his eyes and settled back on the bed. "I was asleep." He perhaps put an extra note of grumpiness into his voice, to combat the frighteningly upbeat tone of his friend Audrey Westin. "I had a late night last night. So did you."

She murmured her agreement. "Guess that's what happens when you get old, sport," she teased.

"Who are you calling old?" he demanded, but she didn't answer. He seemed to remember that his birthday, now that he had a birthday, fell after hers did, which actually made her older than he was. "Why're you calling me, Westin?" he asked. "Got an assignment?"

"What's the most impossible thing you've ever seen?" she asked.

"You're writing a story for the paper," he guessed immediately. She sighed.

"My editor wants a feature about the impossible. No topic, just...*impossibleness*. I have no ideas, Chance. I'm sitting here with Barlett's quotations open and this thing from Alice in Wonderland about believing in six impossible things before breakfast and I'm stuck!"

"Alice in Wonderland?" Chance asked, rubbing his eyes.

""Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." - Lewis Carroll' is what it says. From 'Through the Looking Glass,'" Audrey read to him. The edge to her voice suggested her deadline was looming. "It's good advice for you," she said, softening. A long silence passed, as Chance struggled to keep his eyes open. He took a deep breath and made the decision to remain awake. That usually worked. "You're not saying anything."

"That's the thing about being a photographer, Westin," he said, his voice still gravelly from sleep, but he was smiling. "Never get writer's block."

"You're no help at all," she said, but she wasn't angry with him.

"Talk to you later," he suggested, eyeing the head-shaped dent in his pillow. His covers were still warm. He could go back to sleep for another couple of hours...

He'd started to put the phone down when he heard Audrey's protest, and he moved it closer to his ear again. "Chance, you there?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"I put your bonus for getting the shot in the pocket of your coat. Cash. I thought you could use it."

"Thanks, Westin," he said. She always seemed to know when he hit absolutely, completely broke.

"Well, you worked hard last night," she said, sounding somewhat embarrassed. He could tell by the way she hung up immediately. She was tough to figure out sometimes, but that move he was familiar with.

Dropping the phone, he lay back on the bed and burrowed into the covers, closing his eyes. The moment was short-lived, disturbed by a rumbling noise that grew louder and louder. It was coming from his stomach.

Opening Credits

---

Site © Copyright 2000 by Azar

NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS: Strange Luck and any and all characters from the series portrayed herein, are the property of Twentieth Century FOX, New World Entertainment, Unreality, Inc. and Karl Schaefer. No copyright infringement is intended, but if it offends anyone at FOX, fine--YOU give us a second season of the show!

Info