* › 𝖕𝖚𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖙 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓.

"'scuse me, this seat taken? kay, thanks!" kenny had booked it from her chosen seat in the middle of the restaurant, forfeiting the view of the kitchen for one that provided a perfect spot for people watching. one of kenny's many useless hobbies, all of them which she found had the same amount of levity. she wasn't discouraged by the lone patron sitting exactly where she was fixated on, a stupid smile greeting the stranger as kenny made herself comfortable in the opposite seat. clearing her throat, she picked up the menu and resumed scanning the selections, as if she hadn't frequented the place ever since its grand opening. "oh, don't worry, btw, i'll buy yours, too," flicking her hand around dismissively, she hummed under her breath and thinned her eyes at the special advertised in the corner of the menu. "i think imma go with a stack of cinnamon apple pancakes. sounds like it'll be worth the stomach ache later. what about you? are you more of a sweet or savory type?" it was a strange gift she bore, transforming rooms she graced by pretending like she was far more comfortable in the outside world than she actually felt. she knew she was a social pariah, at least it seemed that way in her inner machinations and from the verbal berating afforded by her father, but greeting strangers and brightening their days had conveniently disputed that image. "we should get screwdrivers, too. or mimosas? mimosas sound fancier."

“no—” and before sylvaine could say anything else, the young individual sat at her table. she scratched her temple for a second, nodded, and accepted what had just happened. okay, patience. it looked like the woman went along with the company she wasn’t anticipating for at the moment. taken aback with CONFUSION and not knowing how to converse with someone younger, except for her 10-year-old son; it was like her role as a council member went out the window altogether. although brunch-a-nonsense was one of her favorite eateries in anchorage, she hadn’t seen them at the establishment. or maybe she has, but never truly paid attention to the other patrons, not in the late morning hours. however, it was halfway through the morning, and this was her first stop before heading to work. “excusez-moi, buy me—buy me what exactly?” sylvaine tilted her head, and looked down at the menu she had in hand, quickly skimming through it. “i’m afraid i don’t know what to order, but the cinnamon apple pancakes sound délectable—and i’m into sweets... but i do get the urge to eat savory food sometimes.” after a couple of minutes into the awkwardness ( mostly from sylvie’s end ), the tension in her shoulders softened. “i don’t believe i have ever tried their screwdrivers, but i always go with having mimosas.” she paused, giving them a stoic expression. “how old are you?”

"What's the deal with this Zydrate stuff?" It was an abrupt question, probably not what you'd expect to hear from a random passerby in the toiletry aisle. He'd been looking for hair dye, the need to agressively bleach his hair and force it into some bright, garish colour having finally taken over him after a few months of letting his dark roots grow in and eat away at the previously well-maintained blonde. "There was an ad for it on TV. Some miracle happy drug?" he said, with a bitter laugh. The way he'd been feeling lately, Ash was sure he could use that but even he had his limits. There wasn't much he felt like trusting these days. But, God, did he feel like SHIT. He'd barely been keeping up with the news of this murder, his head still swimming with his own grief. There wasn't much room for anything else. His head was crammed fulled but his world was so, so fucking empty. Oof. "You think it even works? Or is it just some weird pharmaceutical scam?"

zydrate had been mentioned, and a brow quirked upwards, intrigued. oddly enough, it had been a long time since she heard about the advertised happy pill. was she a user? no. absolutely not. to be fair, she listened—speak unless you’re spoken to, right? or whatever. “what, zydrate?” the woman looked at the young man and blinked. “might as well try it out for yourself if you’re that curious,” she stated with a stoic utterance and a slight french accent escaping her lips. “do you really think you should trust a drug that’s just now available over-the-counter? do with it what you will, i suppose.”

KATJA HERBERS for PHOTOBOOK MAGAZINE (August 2022) 📸 Mike Ruiz

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