FIRST WAVE.

          The roll of his eyes was hard to fight, naturally opposing the woman who thought it detrimental to speak her mind.  “Believe me, I’d love to put on the peace, love, and happiness charade.”  Today, it seemed, was not his day.  Ziggy called himself a semi-psychic; he read auras, tapped into the energy in certain rooms, and really understood people.  At least, that’s what he liked to say.  “I never get a hankering for anything with eyes, no.”  It was hard to keep the disgust out of his voice.  For one, he didn’t condone the meat or dairy industries, they made him ill.  The idea of consuming something from an animal made it very hard for Ziggy to keep his morning lemon ginger water down.  “I’d be a fool to think any soy concoction could taste like the real thing.  Not that I’d want it to — but the idea of stuffing my refrigerator full of beyond meat is nothing less than nightmarish.”  He finally took a moment to look over his new company, eyes trained on her seemingly unassuming face.  “Sadly, only artisan vegan cheese does the trick for me.”  From the one market in LA, which he hadn’t been to in months.

          Ziggy imagined his personal space bubble surrounding him, the one he held so near and dear.  It wasn’t that he felt he couldn’t breathe the same air as any Devinstone resident, he just needed extra space.  Without snapping, thankfully, he brought his attention to the woman.  “Well aren’t you a saint,”  he began, slipping a hand into his pocket to reach for his phone.  “All I need...”  the pads of his fingers tapped efficiently.  “Is to find another cafe before I go to work.”  Lest he need to continue the day without a cup of coffee.  He could be short, whereas he normally had great control of his patience and temper, the lack of caffeine in his system would surely bring out the worst version of him.  “Might you have any suggestions for someone new in town?”  A month was new, new enough that he hadn’t been to every coffee shop in a ten mile radius of his temporary home yet.

          “Is that Gaelic?”  Usually he wouldn’t comment, not if it were Spanish, Italian, German, Dutch — any language he wasn’t familiar with.  He had Scottish ancestors; there’d always been an unhealthy fascination surrounding them, his roots, really.  He was too self involved to worry about the world outside of his family, but there was always that subtle curiosity when he wasn’t over someone yet.  Strangers in Devinstone, most of the time anyway, caught his attention and held it for about ten minutes before he got bored with them.  “A coffee, but nothing now, he saw to that.”  He didn’t bother lifting a finger, only tilting his head in the direction of the same man from moments ago.  It was safe to say his appetite was eviscerated, even as he finished off the sandwich.

          Not a fan.  Ziggy could roll his eyes, mutter a curse word or two, and leave the wretched cafe for all it was worth.  “No, not a fan.”  He regurgitated what was already apparent.  “That, and the way he went about... well, eating, would you call it?  I personally wouldn’t.”  His eyes squinted in rhetoric.  Still, he felt the overwhelming wave of disgust that did not want to leave.  It persisted, making Ziggy feel unwelcome in the very small, homely, small town cafe.  He missed his overpriced organic cold brew espresso in California, which just so happened to be offered nearby his parents’ business headquarters.  “No doubt he’ll get his grubby hands on the same thing tomorrow morning; I’ll have to stop somewhere else.”  He could only imagine the scene he’d cause if he bothered to tell the manager they would be losing his business.  But Ziggy wasn’t exactly a Karen, so to speak, he was just someone with very high expectations.

          “Thank God for that.”  Ziggy was minding his own business.  Surely the look on his face had prompted her input, although he hadn’t directly asked for it.  He liked being complimented, it was basically woven into his being.  Her pointing out the very obvious sentiment that Ziggy was not in fact from Devinstone was extremely flattering, to say the least.  He couldn’t imagine being mistaken for a citizen of the small, dreary town.  A Devinstone-ite, Devinstonian...  he’d rather take up residence with Fred Flinstone himself.  “So I’ve met an ally,”  he began with a tilt of his head.  “You’re from the East coast?  Tell me it’s somewhere invigorating like New York City or Chicago, I’m begging you.”  Ziggy had always described New York as the lesser Los Angeles, with depressing weather and accents that could make him gouge his eyes out, but for the stranger he’d tell a minuscule white lie.

          His brows rose automatically.  “I’m supposed to believe that sight wouldn’t make anybody squeamish?”  Dietary restrictions aside, eating in public meant blending in.  Even if Ziggy were in a hurry, rushing down the street with a falafel wrap in his hand, he didn’t make a show of it.  “Plant based, anyway...”  He didn’t want breakfast anymore, he’d have to go with a more or less growling stomach the entire day, until he could force a Greek kale salad down his throat at four o’clock for an early dinner.  “Vegans get a bad rap.  I choose to identify otherwise.  What about you?”

          Ziggy wasn’t past the idea that Devinstone had any pleasant residents, no, no, he was just sure that the town itself was one skip and a hop away from being Newark, New Jersey.  If it was any compensation for how his morning was playing out, he met someone with a brain.  That was rude, well, he met someone who carried the same dislikes as him, maybe.  The sides of his mouth pulled up as she gave her own two cents, as if he’d spoken the words himself.  Ziggy hated when he was assumed to be... unworthy of paying for his own things by strangers, but he was a business man.  He could tell when someone meant it as a jab, as the culture of southern California so often offered, and when it was meant as a compliment of sorts.  This situation was by far a compliment.  “Ah,”  he began, hands searching his pockets in the same place they did daily.  Meetings, chance encounters, whatever it may be, he always had business cards handy.  “Black coffee, iced.”  The card was firmly set between two fingers as he jutted it forward.  “Next time it’s on me.”

          “I wouldn’t say irrelevant — I was looking too.”  His words dropped down to a whisper, as if it was some dirty secret.  “We weren’t put on this Earth to see that.”  And if he could push her closer to it in the guise of needing to rethink this coffee order?  A perfect plan if Ziggy did say so himself.  His mind went elsewhere, train of thought chugging from station to station.  It was mostly on the track of important things he had to do.  Stopping by the grocery store was one of them — not that that mattered in the slightest to where he stood in that moment.  “Hm?”  His lips barely moved.  “Don’t bother, but I have one too.  A good deed, that is.  I just gave a homely looking woman near the door the last twenty I had.”  Now he’d be stuck with all fifties, what a crime.  Ziggy could glance back with a smile on his face.  Maybe it was pity.  “Maybe the next person in line?”  Although he made no move to let another person ahead.

          Patience was a strong suit for Ziggy.  He was obnoxious, full of himself, shallow, but patient.  He learned it somewhere in his life, between scheduled play dates in Beverly Hills and nine hour Hollywood parties.  He knew how to carry responsibility and trust, which is why he was in Devinstone in the first place.  Unfortunately, the miserable town called for him in the name of organic grocery goods.  He felt like his very own superhero, there to save Devinstone from its bottom of the rung produce.  “I didn’t realize anything I did was directed at you.  I’m sorry you feel that way.”  And he was very, very apologetic about how she went out of her way to strike up a rather rude conversation with him.  “Don’t ruin your day, it’s just starting.”  He hoped she wouldn’t try to ruin his, either — but he suspected he wasn’t as attached to the scenario as she was.

          He couldn’t help but lose all humor at the sight of his newest company.  There were at least a dozen people in the cafe, but the one who happened to find the situation every bit normal made Ziggy’s skin crawl.  “You’re welcome.”  He offered, slightly bowing his head in response to the man, who was now in front of him.  To think he’d given up his spot for that one.  His emotions were clear as day, written all over his face.  Perhaps Ziggy could give him a lesson or two on how to hide when he was uncomfortable.  That was it, Ziggy would consider the act his good deed of the day.  He always performed one — helped a decrepit woman cross the street, bought a mid day snack for a school child, complimented a ghastly pair of shoes at the supermarket.  Things of that sort, and while he didn’t exactly plan on giving up his spot in line, as he was on his way to a meeting with an important client for his family’s business, he did.  It would have to count.  He sighed and forced his hand in his left pocket to check the duty off his daily list.

          All his energy had been tainted and sucked away.  The man’s aura was like a vacuum.  With the way he was eating, Ziggy was sure he’d end up with half the croissant stuck in his throat.  Ziggy wouldn’t be the one to call the ambulance, to say the least.  “Worse than you expected?”  He had to question her, delicate features quickly progressing from unassuming to mildly appalled.  Stop.  The negative thoughts were too much, they’d simply ruin his day altogether.  Sticking to his shallow, yet positive state of mind was harder than it seemed.  He rolled his shoulders back to let some of the stress off them.  “I would,”  he paused, seriously questioning himself for even giving the possibility in indulging in such things.  “I’m not a fan of the processed, sugary, fattening, dead animal carcass circus.  I hope you understand.”  A hand laid on his chest in hopes that she would get the hint he was laying out.  “Maybe another time?”  He lifted his lips in a crooked, half smile.  “But really, drinks would be nice.  Not now, of course, unless you’re happy to marry the idea of being the town alcoholic.”

          Ziggy had only stopped in the — what he would call run own cafe to order a black iced coffee.  No sugar, no sweetener.  It would have to do, considering what he discovered to be Devinstone’s limited resources when it came to assorted milk alternatives.  So much for the idea of an oat milk iced latte with stevia.  He was almost to the counter, his eyes roaming his whereabouts.  A man in the corner caught his eye.  He was scarfing down what looked to be a bacon, egg, and cheese croissant sandwich at lightning speed.  Ziggy couldn’t take it, his eyes cast to the side.  “I can’t look,”  he almost laughed, he didn’t think to keep his criticisms to himself.  “And right before I get to order.”  It was a combination of the fact that the meal went against everything Ziggy stood for, and at the lack of the man’s manners.  It put a stop to any breakfast craving Ziggy had right then and there.  “Go ahead,”  he gestured for the next person to pass him in the growing line.  “I need a minute.”

          “I’d say anyone who’s spent half their life in eighty degree weather.”  Ziggy felt obligated to let her know he wasn’t from around the small town.  If it wasn’t clear by the way he looked, city born and bred, he wouldn’t want anyone thinking the opposite.  He hadn’t tried to fit into Devinstone yet; he wasn’t sure he ever would.  Why conform when he could stand out?  “Not enough possibility of an acquired disease for you?  Add more sugar, that’ll up your chances.”  The only thing he knew about southern tea was the ridiculous amount of processed sugar that did not belong in it.  “Seriously, you should try some Voss.  Best tasting water on the market.”  There it was — the only thing he could truly get out of a conversation: recommending an overpriced brand.

          It felt like years had gone by since Ziggy landed in Massachusetts.  He missed the high UV index of Los Angeles, the importance of sunscreen, boasting only the most expensive, natural, vegan brands to his instagram followers.  Although Spring was very much alive in Devinstone, it meant nothing to him considering the town was realistically coming off a long and hard winter season.  He packed a single scarf in his suitcase.  That was something, at least.  “I’ve always heard it’s about the journey, not the destination.  Of course, there’s always room to wiggle your fate.  Don’t you know the Gods have the ability to rewrite the stars?”  Strangers didn’t start conversations over anything meaningful where he came from.  Meaningful to Ziggy meant often more shallow things.  Street style, material wealth, the so-called culture of Los Angeles.  “I assume we’re speaking hypothetically?”  He let his eyes trail the man’s persona.  Was he carrying any heavy burden?  Ziggy couldn’t be sure, nor did he care to indulge in the prospect of it.  “Life doesn’t always turn out fine in the end, but we’re not told that as children.  It’d be hard to break that to a child, wouldn’t it?”  He supposed that’s why his own parents had never done it.

          He was used to lounges.  Live music, the occasional opera, pianists, socialites, but a bar would have to do the trick.  It appeared he wasn’t in California anymore.  Ziggy was in the mood for a nice whiskey neat that evening, after a day of meetings with contractors and carpenters.  Scouting the new location for his family’s chain of stores took a lot out of him, perhaps too much, considering the way he ordered drink after drink — and even cracked a few jokes with the bartender after what seemed like a brawl was breaking out.  “Exactly what the doctor ordered, wouldn’t you say?  Nothing like a little entertainment after a long day.”  He shrugged, lifting his glass from the bar top in an attempt to escape the slick surface.  “It was something about... a cheating bastard, if I heard it correct.  Lover’s quarrel?”