Hello! -sigh- Life has been hectic, but now I think everything is back to normal, I do know that I've probably lost some people, but I hope they forgive me for the long wait I've given them. I'm working on the next chapter of OaA and I think it'll be up soon too, so please wait a little longer?

I know I shouldn't start another chapter fic, but the plot bunny won in the end. The beggining reminds me of OaA beggining, but the main heroine... You probably won't like her. I didn't make her to likeable anyway, but yeah. This is a OC X Harris fic, I haven't seen many of those around, but I hope this turns out good and I hope you, whoever-you-are, enjoy it!!

On with the tale


I'll be honest; I was just like every other girl on the planet once. Once. I daydreamed at odd moments about my 'prince' who'd come and sweep me and my feet away and that we'd have a wonderful, wild romance and have children and die together, old. In short, it was the typical sugar-filled crap they feed to every little six year old girl and then tried to sell her over-priced dolls with body parts many adult and supposed 'mature' women would kill for.

But that's not the point.

The point is that my heart was broken by your also typical testosterone induced male. I don't remember the horrific details word for word, but I remember enough to know that all I had imagined him to be was nothing but a mask. A façade. A disguise I to some extent created.

After that, school was nothing but a daze. I didn't try anymore, there seemed no point to doing anything other than what I was forced to do. And I grew up, and maybe he did too, I just never checked. It was as though he took all my energy and left me laughing.

I've heard someone whose name escapes me, that love is like war; easy to start, hard to end and impossible to forget. It makes me wonder how many more wars of my own I'll experience before I die.

But I digress, moving on. Soon after graduation day I traded my comfy living with my parents for… an apartment.

It was cheap for an apartment in a city, but I nonetheless had to pay for it with my cheap salary from your brand name fast food restaurant. It just so happened that the one I chose to work at had a high turn over rate, and today was my turn.

"You're kidding?" I snapped at my frightened assistant manager, who quivered and took a step backwards from me.

"I-I-I'm sorr-!" He began to apologize, but I cut him off swiftly with the sheer ability to wave a straw.

"Don't." I looked away, turning my attention back to a hawk-nosed lawyer who was glaring at us and tapping her watch impatiently. "Sorry for the wait, have a nice day." I muttered, jamming a straw into her bag in a fruitless attempt of skewering her burger.

With Hawky taken care of, I turned my undivided attention back to ol' Steve.

I closed my eyes and smiled somewhat insanely. "Would you care to tell me why I'm being fired, Mr. Assistant Manager?" I said, putting an emphasis on his position.

To this day I never figured out how he could so suddenly become fearless and blurt out my faults. Maybe it's animal instinct; you have no choice but to fight back. "Y-you're always late, and you're rude to the customers, you mix up orders, never wash your hands after a bathroom break!" He paused for an intake of breath, and then continued. "And you give your mixed up orders to other people, and there are so many other health code violations you break! And, worst of all, you don't treat any of us like a family!! We're a family restaurant!"

I laughed openly at him until my sides began throbbing. He had so many good points, but he ruined with that last bit.

All at once, my laughter stopped as though it never happened. "That's a joke," I spat, "you, Steve, are not anything to me except a pest. Now," I took two steps forward and poked his chest, "why don't you grow some and stop acting like you own the place and that this will all go to hell without me." I amaze myself sometimes at my ability to lie.

And so I sashayed past him like some bad-ass hero and grabbed my coat and put it on and was almost out the door when Steve decided to finally blast back a retort.

"W-why don't you stop trying to hide behind petty insults and sarcasm?" He said. It wasn't a question, but rather a true statement. It stung how true it was. My sarcasm had become my crutch and insults my breakfast that got me through the day. Goddess, I hate smart people.

But I just kept walking.

I'm sure by now you must either:

A) Hate me with a passion that spans universes.

B) Are trying to give me the benefit of the doubt.

C) Are just planning on going with the flow and see how this turns out.

You can relax, this isn't a test. There is no right or wrong answer. I can't really hate you if you chose 'A,' nor will I like you anymore if you chose 'B.' Now I'll be a hypocrite and tell you that if there was a right answer, I'd commend you if you chose 'C.' Let's see how many more people chose 'A,' eh?

Anyway, arriving back at my apartment didn't change my mood in the least. In case you didn't notice, I lost my job. And my apartment wasn't exactly cheerful. It had a kitchen, a bathroom and something stuck between a bedroom and living room. It always reminded me of an over-sized garage. Maybe it was the walls and their lifeless gray color.

I started doing the same routine that followed every job loss: looking through the classified ads. And I saw it.

FOR SALE: Harvest Ranch

I raised an eyebrow at it. That was by far the cheesiest name for a farm I'd ever heard of. I read the rest of the ad as it boasted about the farm and its' history and where it resided. Mineral Town.

It had a nice ring to it. Maybe life was better in the city. The people there probably couldn't tell if they were insulted if it bit them on the nose.

Better start packing!

Well? Didn't I say she was rather unlikeble? Maybe she'll get better, ol' Harris will tame her with his postman ways!

Well, you know what to do!! REVIEW!!