So, I settled myself into one of the vinyl chairs to wait. I was beginning to get nervous. I was really nervous as a matter of fact. I was uncomfortable, too. I guess you could say I was nervously uncomfortable. Not that anyone would actually want to say that, but I guess you could.

In the hopes of taking my mind off my pending doom, I did the first thing that popped into my head. I glanced around for a magazine. There weren't any. There was not one, single magazine. Geez, I thought, This is a publishing house and there are no magazines in the lobby. What's with that?!

I sighed loudly then quickly glanced around to make sure no one had noticed. I need not have worried. The secretary and I were the only two people in the room. She was too busy typing a memo or something to even glance my way. My left knee suddenly began to bounce up and down. I looked down at it in surprise. It was really weird. It was almost like it had a mind of its own. I kept willing it to stop, but it just kept bouncing. Up and down. Up and down. I quickly crossed my legs, pinning the left one under the right. I smiled inwardly. I was pleased with my own ingenuity. I wasn't please for very long though. My right foot began to bob back and forth. Oh, well.

I was growing more nervous by the minute. I was becoming figidity, too. I uncrossed my legs and slowly began to rock back and forth while examining the room. The walls were . . . gray. That's about all that could be said about them. Yeah, they were gray alright. They weren't even an interesting gray. They were more of a 'boring as hell' kind of gray. I wondered if that particular shade was actually labeled that way on the can.

Suddenly, the secretary spoke. "Miss?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin. She could've at least given me a warning or something. I cleared my throat nervously. "Yes?"

"I've been reviewing your paperwork and there seems to be a problem."

"What kind of a problem?" I can't be sure, but I think I sounded hopeful. I hope I didn't sound hopeful.

"Oh, it's nothing big. It's just that we need your full, legal name on all of our documents."

Oh, boy, I thought, Here we go again.

"There has been some question as to---"

I know it was rude of me to interrupt, but I did it anyway. "That is my legal name."

She quickly consulted her paperwork then looked at me in puzzlement. "So your name is . . . ?"

I didn't answer. I just leaned toward her waiting for the whole question.

She smiled hesitantly. "Your name is . . . ?"

I still waited.

"Your name is . . . um, your name is . . . True?" She had this really hopeful expression on her face like she wanted me to tell her she was somehow mistaken.

I tried to break it to her as gently as possible. "Yes. That's right. My name is True MacAlister."

She slowly nodded her understanding. "And your middle name would be . . . ?"

I figured as much trouble as she'd had with the first name I better go ahead and give her this one. "Love."

"Love?"

"Yes, my full, legal name is True Love MacAlister."

"O-kay. Thank you." She hesitated. "Um . . . It shouldn't be much longer."

Judging from that reaction, I figured she'd probably shit a brick if I told her my sister's real name was Setting Moon. I had almost decided to do just that, but she quickly turned back to the mound of paperwork on her desk. Left without much of a choice, I turned back to my boredom.

I was desperate for something to occupy my wandering mind. I was going to go crazy if I had to stare at the boring walls any longer. It was then that I noticed a tiny TV in the far corner of the lobby. The sound was turned down so low that I could just barely hear anything, but I watched anyway. It was a local news cast.

I was able to make out most of the anchor's words while scary images of a horrifying car wreck and massive traffic jam played about on the screen. "Due to the seriousness of a recent accident and the subsequent traffic entanglements, citizens have began demanding quicker response times from emergency personnel. While motorist Claude Mulligan still lies in a coma, EMS crews continue to defend---"

I quickly turned away. I didn't want to hear about some guy lying in a coma. That was just too depressing for me to handle right now. Poor guy, I thought. I figured he was probably on his way to some sell-out establishment job when it happened. A job much like the one for which I was about to interview.

True Love MacAlister

The Muse Introduction