<div style="width:400; height:15; background-color:785e60; font-family:georgia; font-size:26; text-transform:lowercase; font-style:italic; text-align:center; color:ffffff; padding-bottom: 9px; padding-top: 0px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000000; line-height:80%;">smile like you meant it</div>
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It was one of those moments where you get a little lost in your own thoughts, where time stands still for you and you alone. Of course, everyone else around you is aware that you are in some faraway place. Adelaide had these moments frequently, she was a thinker, and she could get easily lost in her own thoughts. Everything else became void; it made studying and being dedicated to her education easy. The overhead speakers were softly exposing a fantastic song, Adelaide’s foot tapped to the beat. It reminded her of sunny Sunday’s spent at Manhattan Beach with her brother’s and that, in turn, made her miss her family. It was, of course, the Beach Boys…oh how she loved Dennis Wilson; she thought he was just it when she was younger. And, to say the least, she still had somewhat of a crush on him. He was handsome, the way his hair flicked to one side effortlessly.
Adelaide wondered though, why they were playing Kokomo of all songs. Perhaps they were trying to give off some good vibrations? She tapped her foot continuously, waiting in line for the coffee machine, which she did not plan on getting coffee from. Addie hated it, it was poison. It was not natural to need caffeine to keep you awake, she loved the taste but was sensible and mature enough to know the effect it would have on her. She liked a clear and concise head, one that was focused and not clogged and drugged up. She preferred tea, a good green tea. Chai was disgusting; she would never go there again. No milk for her, either. Black tea was healthy, no sugar either. You could say she was rather plan when it came to her choice of beverage. English Breakfast was another favourite, if you wanted to get on her good side. If anything, she loved a good cup of English Breakfast to wake herself up in the morning with a bowl of oats.
Her mind wandered back to her family, wondering what her brothers were up to at the moment and most importantly her Mother. Kokomo made her think about her Mother. Memories flooded in, her mother and father gingerly dancing with one another in the living room dancing to this very song. It was a precious moment to be able to remember them, so in love with one another. As a child, they would frequently put on various music – Van Morrison, The Rolling Stones and the like – and just dance the evening away. It was what made her family unique, their closeness, and ability to enjoy one another’s company in the most simplest of forms. She smiled into space, at nothing in particular, just reliving her memories.
The gent in front her of was taking his time, surely it didn’t take so long to make one cup of coffee. She didn’t bother to check and see. Adelaide didn’t even take any notice that she had been standing there for a good five minutes waiting. The guy was, of course, making a round of coffees, obviously for a study session happening somewhere in the midst of the building. Five, in total. Adelaide took no notice; she had the patience of an elephant carry a baby for two years. They were not in any hurry to squeeze a bub out and neither would she be if she had to push out something as big as that. Adelaide had all the time in the world. She hummed along to the music; it was so refreshing to hear. She had taken her work to one of the various Study Halls; Addie had picked the one with the least amount of faces in it. She worked better with less people around, or even still no people whatsoever.
The gentle background music was welcoming though, if there was one thing she did like while she was working was a bit of background music. Especially if it was The Beach Boys, she commended the school radio for their choice in music with a nod and continued to tap and hum to the beat.
<div style="width:400; height:10; background-color:785e60; font-family:georgia; font-size:10; text-transform:uppercase; font-face:bold; letter-spacing:3; text-align:center; color:ffffff; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-top: 8px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000000; line-height:50%;"><b><font color=e1cbd0>TAGGED:</font></b> Sam <b><font color=e1cbd0>WORDS:</font></b> 686</div>
<div style="text-align:center; font-family:arial; font-style:italic; font-size:8; color:6c6b6b; line-height:180%;">THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY <a href=http://z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND/index.php?showuser=871>WILMETTA</a> OF CAUTION.</div>
[doHTML]<div style="margin: 0 auto; width:450px; border-right:1px dotted; border-left:5px solid #A7382D; padding:5px 7px 5px 7px; text-align:justify; font-family:calibri; font-size:11px; background:#F3F3F3;">The harsh buzzing of his alarm clock was more than enough to jolt one Sam Evans out of a deep, comforting sleep. Getting out of bed however was another matter entirely. It had become a habit for him to just lie there for a while, thinking about the day ahead. For once it would hopefully be quite relaxing since the only things he had planned were dropping off his application for the USC Marathon Team and checking out the Montgomery Ross Fisher building. His schedule had naturally ended up pretty science heavy but there had been space for him to take a few other things as well and he was particularly intrigued by the Social Conflicts in Science and Technology class which would be taught there. It would be one of his first classes as well so he had decided that a little reconnaissance mission might be useful.<br><br>
With a final stretch he hauled his long frame upright and padded over to the window as quietly as he could, hoping not wake his roommate. It was only nine o’clock but there were students milling around outside already and Sam felt a sudden desire to join them. The sun had burnt away all the early-morning haze and it promised to be a clear, sunny day. After a hasty shower he dressed in his usual uniform of checked shirt (short-sleeved in deference to the promised heat) and jeans, along with his favourite blue canvas plimsolls. They were getting a little scruffy but he hadn’t to throw them away just yet. As he closed the door softly behind him he felt a stab of guilt for missing his usual run but consoled himself that he’d soon have plenty of chance to get back into training.<br><br>
The walk was only a short one and after a few minutes he was standing in front of the building, admiring the handsome brick façade. He was still really impressed at how well-kept all the structures around campus were. Being here still seemed like a bit of a dream to the freshman, like he was on the set of a Hollywood movie. As he entered the strains of The Beach Boys immediately reached his ears and he supressed a grin. It was the perfect soundtrack. He’d always thought there was something intrinsically Californian about their music. <br><br>
Nonetheless, although he was glad to have a soundtrack to his wanderings, Kokomo wouldn’t have been his first choice. Thanks mostly to his dad’s influence Sam’s taste tended to run more towards classic rock like Pink Floyd, Jimi Hendrix and The Who. His older brother, Chris, had always teased him about it, referring to his favourite songs as ‘stoner music’. The memory dredged up a sudden pang of homesickness and as he walked towards one of the various study halls, hoping to maybe do a bit of reading for his first class tomorrow, he couldn’t help but wonder what his brother would think of USC. Chris had never been afraid to sugar-coat his opinions.<br><br>
Humming along quietly under his breath Sam was about to push open a door at random when the coffee machine caught his eye. He hesitated for a moment, drawing a dirty look from a guy waiting to enter the room behind him, and then began to dig in his pockets for some change. Satisfied that he had enough for at least one drink he joined the queue, finding the ritual comfortingly familiar. Usually he had a large mug of tea every morning with his breakfast but today he had opted for juice instead and he was craving a strong cup of PG Tips or Typhoo loaded with sugar. His mother had always warned him that he’d ruin his teeth, to which his usual response was to point out that he only had one filling. The tea the machine had, if it had any, probably wouldn’t be as good but it was better than nothing.<br><br>
The queue was a pretty long one but waiting had never bothered him and it was actually quite nice to just wait and listen to the music for a bit. The last few days had been a bit of a whirl and he hadn’t had much time to reflect or even stand still for very long. With a contented grin Sam started tapping his foot to the beat, noticing with some amusement that the young woman in front of him was doing the same. <i>Great minds think alike.</i> <b>“So, are you a fan?”</b> he hazarded, hoping that she wouldn’t mind him addressing her out of the blue.<br><br>
<div style="border-top:1px dotted #d3d3d3; font-size:11px; font-family:calibri; text-align:justify; padding:3px 0px 0px 0px; text-transform:uppercase;"><b>SYNOPSIS:</b> Music, tea and sociology. <b>TAGS:</b> For Michelle/Adelaide. <b>WORD COUNT:</b> 763. <B>NOTES:</b> I'm really sorry that it took me so long.</div></div>[/doHTML]