Harriet lived in a little lodging home on the outskirts of town. Beside it lay the commercial fishing docks where men made it a goal to start shouting at one another as early as four in the morning - sometimes even three. Harriet used these shouts as an alarm. For a little while, she laid in bed and blinked into the darkness. She was mentally preparing herself for the day to come by rehearsing her lessons and reminding herself of everything that needed to be completed by the day's end. When she was done thinking about these things, she finally rose to her feet and stretched away the sleep that still lingered in her bones. The moonlight provided enough illumination for her to find her matchbox and start the fire. Soon, the room was cozy with its warmth. She stood there a warm, palms toward the rich source of heat. "Ah," she sighed with a contented smile. As far as she was concerned there was nothing that could make her life any better. She loved her line of work. No one bothered her at the lodge. Everything was perfect. But still something was missing..