Doesn't anyone else think that maybe that Fringe writing might get in the way sometimes?
Disclaimer: Fringe isn't mine. Would I be here if it was? Well, if I did own Fringe, and I had an idea like this one... let's just say it wouldn't end up in an episode.
A/N: This idea has actually been waiting to be written for ages. I just recently went back through my list of ideas/prompts that I've had sitting around for ages, looking for something to write. I'm sure this could be a lot funnier... but I'm not sure how.
It's a normal Tuesday morning. Well, actually, it's a pretty good Tuesday morning. Laura normally hates Tuesdays, because there's nothing good about Tuesdays. At least on Mondays you get to complain about the fact that it's Monday, and by Wednesday, the week's already halfway over. Tuesdays are just early in the week, and you can't even complain. It's horrible.
Anyway, this was a pretty normal Tuesday, except that nothing too annoying had happened so far. Laura had somehow managed to leave her apartment on time, and she'd had time to stop at a bakery and grab a muffin and coffee for breakfast before making her train. She hadn't had to run for the train or anything.
With her hunger satiated by the muffin and her mind already running at full steam thanks to the coffee, Laura is almost chipper as she walks to her office. She's not really thinking about where she's going, just planning all the things she'll get accomplished before lunch now that she can think properly. Plus, she's walked the same route to work every day for the past seven years. She could probably do it in her sleep by now and not run into anyone.
All of a sudden, she bumps into something rather violently. "Ow!" she exclaims. So much for a perfect Tuesday, a pessimistic voice inside her head thinks. She rubs the bump that's forming on her head and looks at the floating grey shape in front of her. Hmm, I wonder what it is, she thinks. Glancing at her watch, she sees she has some time to spare. She weighs her chances and decides to humour her reckless spirit, something she hasn't done since she was a student.
She climbs up on a bench nearby that puts her head above the strange grey shape that's floating above the ground. Sideways, she's able to see that it tells her where she is.
"But why would anyone need to be told we're in Boston?" she wonders aloud.