Deep in the heart of 'Roar' Sector, right in the shadow of an old pharmacy and behind a rundown laundromat, grey skies poured an endless torrent of rain into the alley outside Claire's apartment. Faded paint covered the well-worn door of the ground-floor dwelling, as the rainwater seeped in through the genuine antique weatherstripping. Inside, a hand-me-down raincoat hung on a nail against bare drywall. A small kerosene heater kept the chill from outside at bay, while the aroma of muffins drifted in from the kitchen.
A bed lay silent on one side of the room, it's sheets freshly made with care. On the other side of the room on a makeshift table, a well worn chess set waited patiently between two ceramic mugs. This morning's pot of tea was keeping itself company, as usual. It was all one could do while awaiting the arrival of breakfast.
The sound of the timer going off was akin to a trumpet sounding the charge. Hands clad in crimson oven-mitts reached into the inferno and withdrew the muffin-tray from the full fury of three hundred and fifty degrees of pastry baking intensity. The clatter of aluminum on the counter rang out through the small apartment as it's sole occupant began scrounging through the fridge for butter. Officer Claire 404, of the Angelus police Department, was at a loss. She ran a hand through her chronically messy brownish red hair as she pondered the whereabouts of her tub of margarine. Two triangular shaped ears, very much akin to those of a red panda, flicked in irritation. She could have sworn she put it back on the top shelf yesterday.
She closed the refrigerator door before taking the still warm tray of muffins into the other room. The aging appliance clanked in response, it's poor motor about to go up any day now. Suddenly remembering the events of the day before, she returned to the kitchen and once more opened the fridge. Her query waited on the bottom shelf, carefully hidden behind a loaf of bread and suspicious of predators. Victory achieved, she once more closed the door and smiled to no one in particular. Taped to the fridge, a crude, Crayola-fueled drawing of a sun smiled back. Satisfied she happily bounced back toward breakfast.
Back in the other room, (the only other room in the apartment,) Claire sat in one of the only two chairs in the whole place. It was a sky blue threadbare armchair, the upholstery lovingly cleaned every other weekend. She studied the chessboard carefully while sipping tea. This game had been going on for far longer than most would have patience for, but her opponent didn't mind much. Once she drained her cup of tea, she moved her white knight over a few squares, removing a black bishop from play in the process. A satisfied smile played across her youthful face as she finished off her first muffin of the day.
The young Clade stood and straightened out her long bushy tail before sitting down in the carmine recliner opposite where she sat mere moments before. She picked up the other mug of Earl grey and ran a finger along a small chip in it's otherwise pristine surface. It had been like that since it was given to her. Still, chipped glaze didn't spoil the flavor of the tea. And like most things fragile, it'd last a long time if cared for. She took a sip and then turned her attention back to the chess match. Losing a bishop at this point was a heavy blow, but she could recover. Her opponent was definitely a crafty one. This game just got interesting.
Overall, it had been a good morning. Her chess match was getting intense. The rain outside gave her some nice music. Her fridge was in a good mood today. Warm tea and fresh muffins filled her belly. She still had another hour before she had to head out to the precinct. That was more than enough time for another batch of muffins. To most people it was just Tuesday, but for Claire, it was the best day ever. And it was like that everyday.