Trail Mix
Al spent the rest of her afternoon hacking at weeds and clearing wood from the field. Soon enough, though, it got dark and the overgrowth got, well, creepy. She headed back inside and decided to see what channels she could get on the ol’ boob tube. TV static, a cooking show, more TV static, Living Off the Land. Now this seemed interesting; she was, after all, about to start living off the land.
That night she dreamt of spring onions, and she awoke the next morning hungry. She looked at her small stock of food on the table— beef jerky, a protein bar, and some trail mix. It would have to hold her over until she could get some real food.
One road trip-themed breakfast later, she was hacking away at weeds and grass again. Mayor Lewis had left her some parsnip seeds to start the season with, and she wanted to get them planted before facing meeting the town. Did she have to introduce herself to... everyone? Well, she could start with whoever was at the general store.
Once the parsnips were planted, she washed her hands, changed into some clothes that didn’t have dirt on them, and headed on her way to town. She remembered walking with her grandpa to town to run errands, or to visit Mayor Lewis; it was a straight trek from the front gate. The day was beautiful; the clouds blocked just enough sun to protect one’s eyes, birds chirped overhead, and light breezes filled the air. Before she knew it, she was in town, and she was surprised to discover that the general store, Pierre’s, was also a straight walk ahead. A little bell jingled as she opened the door, causing the man at the counter, presumably Pierre, to look over.
“Hey, it's Ms. Al, the new farmer! I'm Pierre, owner of the local general store. If you're looking for seeds, my shop is the place to go. I'll also buy produce from you for a good price! A little agriculture could really inject new life into the local economy!” he said. Al couldn’t help but feel that his spiel had been scripted.
“Nice to meet you, Pierre! I’m mainly looking to buy some groceries right now. All I’ve eaten today are leftover snacks from the bus ride.” One person down, a whole town to go.
“It’s never too early to start planting! You’ll only reap what you sow, after all.” This was a businessman, through and through. He had a point, though; why make more trips to the store than she had to?
She was about to leave, her bag filled with food and seeds, when a girl with vivid purple hair walked in from the back of the store.
“Ah, have you met my daughter, Abigail?” Pierre said, then turned to the purple-haired girl, “Abby, this is the new farmer, Al.”
“Oh, that's right...I heard someone new was moving onto that old farm. It's kind of a shame, really. I always enjoyed exploring those overgrown fields by myself,” she said, with an exaggerated sigh.
“And you didn’t take care of the weeds for me?” Al replied, feinting offense.
Please don’t get offended. Please don’t get offe—oh thank Yoba she’s laughing.
“Hey, my friends and I always hang out at the saloon around seven on Fridays. You should join us!” she said, calming down her giggling.
“Oh! That’s very nice of you. I don’t know if I can make it this week, what with all the work that needs to be done on the farm. But I’ll take you up on that offer sometime!” Al was shocked. This could be her first actual friend here.
-
Al was relieved to come home. It felt nice to have a place that was actually hers, rather than somewhere that she paid someone else to let her live in, not to mention sharing walls with other people. How many times did her old upstairs neighbors fight each month? There was no way they were happy together. She was grateful to have her little sanctuary, although it needed a little love. As she sat on the floor, eating a sandwich she made from her new groceries, she decided that the first improvement she would make would be to get that chair fixed.
The sun was already lowering from its peak, but the trail leading up into the mountains was much easier to find now that there was proper light. Chair pieces in hand, she began her journey toward better seating.
--
Sebastian’s stomach growled louder than his typing. He blinked wearily at his screen, then checked the time.
2:58 PM
Four and a half hours of coding. He supposed it was about time he ate lunch. He hated losing any amount of time working, though; he had deadlines to meet. He stood up and rolled his tense shoulders (an unfortunate hazard of his profession). He knew he was likely to come across his mom, sister, stepdad, or maybe even a random person from town as he made his way to the kitchen. The last thing he expected was to hear a voice he couldn’t recognize, especially not saying what it was.
“Yeah, and now I've got this nice-sized bruise on my bottom.... Anyway, do you think you can fix it?”
What the fuck?