Bridget zoomed down the street and made a long sweeping turn into the driveway, and locked the brakes on her bike at the last possible moment, leaving yet another long black skid mark among the scores of others, stopping with the front wheel a bare two inches from the closed garage door.
She hopped off the bike and quickly punched in the code to open the garage door. She stripped off her helmet as the door rumbled up its tracks, and wheeled the bike inside, slapping the button to close the door as she passed. She tossed the helmet on the workbench, toed the kickstand down and headed for the kitchen door.
She shook out her long blonde hair as she walked to the fridge. She pulled open the door and grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filled it exactly half way with milk and downed it as the door to the fridge drifted shut.
Taking the back stairs two at a time, Bridget headed for her room, anxious to get out of her work clothes and into something a little more comfortable. Rounding the banister post at the top of the stairs, she started down the hall to her room, unbuttoning her blouse as she did so.