@skyhaunts

stranger things.

he lets out a shaky breath that he knows sounds terrible over the line. all harsh wind and static through the hollow of the phone. the deep inhale that follows is just as bad.

he’s outside a bar. there’s a general store nearby and a gas station across from it. a dozen other scattered buildings line the streets—some abandoned, some not, all of them closed. downtown, he thinks. he’s downtown and it’s late and he can’t get his pulse under control long enough to remember why he came here in the first place. the streetlight flickers above him and he flinches. his grasp tightens around the phone, fingernails biting into his palm as he exhales.

        “i’m sorry — i’m so sorry.” he saw something, heard something, felt something that reminded him too much of empty fields and yawning skies. instinct demanded he reach out for something decidedly free of those barbed ties, someone decidedly free of them, and he’s only now realized the thoughtlessness of it all. calling her now, at this hour of night, when fog begins to gather on the horizon. greeting her with an urgency that surpasses the border of too much. the thrum of tires hitting gravel travels across the vacant street. he rests his head against the payphone and closes his eyes.

stranger things.

there’s a frown as he fumbles with his apron. for the first time in however many months he’s worked here, loretta’s diner is packed to the brim, desperate townsfolk and stray tourists alike searching for somewhere to celebrate the new year. with the diner being the only place in five square miles that sells food, that searching doesn’t take very long. every booth, every table, and most of those little red stools are filled with somebody—which, in timothy’s opinion, is terrifying for a restaurant that’s lucky to get ten people on a good day. inching towards maximum occupancy wouldn’t be that big of a deal if the diner weren’t severely understaffed. the makeshift wait staff, assembled after the actual wait staff (one single waitress) called out sick, consists of the owner’s unfortunate niece and a very disgruntled timothy.

the latter of which has barely managed to tie his apron.

        BLUE  EYES  NEVER  WAVER  FROM  HIS  BACK.    she’s  been  told  plenty  of  times  to  mind  her  manners,   𝙶𝙸𝚁𝙻𝚂  𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃  𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝙴  𝙰𝙽𝙳  𝙶𝙸𝚁𝙻𝚂  𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃  𝙼𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙷  -  𝙾𝙵𝙵.    her  mouth  sets,    weight  shifting  out  so  she  can  see  past  his  shoulder,   much  too  short  to  do  so,   but   still  makes  the  effort.    as  hopeless  as  he  is,   susie  is  in  no   shape  to  help,   functions  of  the  bike  seemingly  simple  when  it  comes  to  the  basics  :   you  get  on  and  you  pedal,   that’s  it. 

         she  lingers  by  his  side,   just  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye,    rocking  back  and  forth  on  her  heels,   expression  one  of  curiosity  and  impatience.     ❛    it’s  not  your  fault  or  anything.    ❜     delicate  shoulders  lift  and  fall  in  a  half  -   committal  shrug,   pause  taken.   ❛    no,   i  don’t  really  have  anything  to  do,  but …    are  you  sure  you  know  what  you’re  doing,   mister?    ❜

he spares a glance at her before continuing to sift through the toolbox. just a quick flick of his eyes with a weaker attempt at a smile than the first, this one tight at the edges where the other was not. because no, he’s not sure what he’s doing. he’s as likely to break the bicycle as he is to fix it, but she reminds him of emily, all kids do, and the thought of not being able to repair the bike makes him feel guilty and useless and terrible—and the thought of her knowing he has no clue what he’s doing only makes him feel worse.

another ‘course! almost slips past his lips, but he manages to catch himself. there are only so many times he can get away with using the same half-assed reassurance before it becomes too obvious.

       “yeah,” there’s a lilt to it, at the very end. the word hangs in the silence like an incomplete thought as he rifles through the toolbox. a quiet hum follows, a soft buzz of hmmmm, like he’s gearing up to resume what he was saying, but nothing else comes. then that, too, ends like an unfinished sentence. all the while, he keeps his head down and picks out a few sockets, one at a time, lining them up with the axle. it takes five tries before he finds what looks to be the right one. a few seconds more and he has the thing twisted onto the wrench.

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇

# 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙶𝚄𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚂:    1    /    2    /   3 +

𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚅𝙾𝙸𝙲𝙴:     high    /    average    /    deep

𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝙽𝚃:   yes  /   soft   /    no

𝙳𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙰𝙽𝙾𝚁:    confident   /    shy    /   approachable    /   hostile  /   other

𝙿𝙾𝚂𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴:   slumped    /   straight    /   stiff   /   relaxed

𝙷𝙰𝙱𝙸𝚃𝚂:   head tilting   /   swaying    /    fidgeting   /    stuttering    /    gesturing    /    arm crossing    /    strokes chin    /    er, um, or other interjections    /    plays with hair / clothing    /    hands at hips   /     inconsistent eye contact  /  maintains eye contact    /    frequent pausing    /    stands close    /    stands at distance

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐓𝐘

𝚅𝙾𝙲𝙰𝙱𝚄𝙻𝙰𝚁𝚈:     ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◻.

𝙴𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽:    ◼ ◼ ◼ ◻ ◻ .

𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙲𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴:    ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◻ .

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘

𝙵𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚈:     ◼ ◼ ◼ ◻ ◻ .

𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙸𝚃𝚈:    ◼ ◼ ◼ ◻ ◻ .

𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐘.    arse.    ass.    asshole.    bastard.    bitch.   bloody.    bugger.    bollocks.    chicken shit.  crap.    cunt.    dick.    frick.    fuck.    horseshit.    motherfucker.    piss.  prick.    screw.    shit.  shitass.     son of a bitch.  twat.    wanker.    pussy.

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓.     christ on a bike.    christ on a cracker.    damn.    goddamn.    godsdamn.    (bloody) hell(s).    holy shit.    jesus.    jesus christ.    jesus h christ.    jesus h.    roosevelt christ.    lord sithis have mercy.    jesus, mary and joseph.    sweet jesus.    seven hells.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓?     contractions or enunciation ?    straightforward or cryptic ?    jargon or toned ?    complexity or simplicity ?    finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind ?    masculinity, neutrality, or femininity ?    formalities or abrasiveness ?    praise or equivocation ?   frankness or lies ?    excessive or minimal hand gestures ?    name-calling or magnanimity ?     friendly or blunt nicknames ?

𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝙳𝙾 𝙿𝙴𝙾𝙿𝙻𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙰 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙳 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝚁 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 ?

almost always    /    frequently  /   sometimes    /   rarely  /    never

𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁’𝚂 𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙰𝙲𝚁𝙾𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙻𝚈 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺 ?

almost always  /   frequently    /    sometimes    /    rarely    /    never

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 ?  

almost always    /   frequently   /   sometimes    /   rarely    /    never

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 ?

almost always    /   frequently    /    sometimes    /    rarely    /    never

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚄𝚂𝙴 ‘𝚆𝙷𝙾𝙼’ 𝙸𝙽 𝙰 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 ?

yes    /    no    /    only ironically

𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙰 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙳𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝚄𝚂𝙴 ?

but    /    though    /   although   /   however  /    perhaps   /    mayhaps

𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 ?

walk away    /   ask if that’s everything    /    say that that’s everything    /   give a proper goodbye /   tell their company they’re done here    /   remain quiet   /    they don’t

𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙳𝙳𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚂 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂 ?

titles    /   first names  /  surnames    /    full names    /    nicknames

𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚂𝙾𝙲𝙸𝙰𝙻 𝙲𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚂 𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙰𝚂𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝙴𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙶𝚂 𝚃𝙾, 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺 ?

upper    /    middle    /    working    /    lower

𝙸𝙽 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚈 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂 ?

accent    /    vocabulary    /    tone    /    level    /    politeness   /    brusqueness    /   it doesn’t

“You’re welcome.”

Leona appreciates the company. It’s unexpected, but she’s learned to expect that, especially in the field she has. Nobody can predict the sort of situations they could find themselves in or what they have to deal with. But she makes due with whatever life tosses at her, but at least there are option for choices. She doesn’t have to save someone’s life, but she chose to because that’s what being a nurse is. She didn’t have to adopt her boys, yet she did because she felt like giving them the life she never had. And she didn’t have to let Timothy in, but she did because she enjoyed his company. Seeing him as of recent had been overdue, but Leona is more than happy he’s here. And, if she could’ve been a better host to his unexpected visit, she would’ve grabbed him a coke, but she heard the four year old whining because she left.

The container on her counter doesn’t go unnoticed, as it’s in her peripheral view. Her home is pretty neat and tidy, so to see something new, catches her eye. And a genuine smile crosses her lips. He didn’t have to bring anything, but they’re old school— bringing a gift over as it’s practically customary back in the day. Even so, if she were to show up to his home, she would do the same. Maybe with one her own attempts at a pie (she’s been trying to make them on her off time, but it’s rare to be focused on something other than her boys), but nonetheless something to give.

Plopping herself back down on the carpet floor where she had previously been, she affectionately runs her fingers through Jonathan’s hair, continuing to smile back as he lights up at her return. They’ve been playing with toys, trying to keep quiet and preoccupied while the almost-one year old is asleep. “I appreciate you coming over. It’s really nice to see you,” Leona replies, looking up from Jonathan and towards the other. “I’ve been alright. The boys are okay. Will is sick. They let me bring him home for now, but he might have to go back to the hospital.” It’s a mystery, as she can’t get a hold of their actual mother’s medical history (yet, as her fingers are crossed), but she hopes for the best. “And this one, is a little cheeky bum. Likes to wake me up every morning, super early as if he knows I have to get ready for work, but earlier than my alarm.” Leona laughs quietly. “How have you been?” 

timothy offers a smile in response to the news that it’s nice to see him. really nice—that’s not something he hears often. he doesn’t know whether to return the verbal sentiment, admit aloud it’s nice to see her too or settle for smiling, and by the time he makes up his mind, the moment has already passed. the smile relaxes into his usual almost-frown, and the words he should have said die on his tongue. something like guilt bubbles up from his chest and into his throat and he swallows that too. suppresses all of it and hopes his appreciation is evident enough in the flash of upturned corners. because he does appreciate these moments between them, just as she does, even if he doesn’t know how to express it without wanting to curl up and hide.

his gaze drops to the soda can held between his hands. callused fingers tap against the aluminum as he listens, light and sporadic. tap, short pause, tap, tap, long pause, tap. never when she’s speaking, only in the seconds between her words. tap. tap. it stops with a hum of acknowledgement.

        “i’m sorry to hear about will. i hope he gets better soon.” dark eyes flit back to leona, and not for the first time since showing up at her doorstep, he thinks he dropped by at a bad time. she’s looking after her boys, spending one of the few days she has off caring for others, and here he is—taking up her couch, drinking her coke, and smiling his half-assed smiles. sure, he brought a pie—sure, it might even be a great pie—but in the grand scheme of minutes and seconds and space wasted, quarter-charred baked goods hardly mean much. still, he chuckles with her, flashes another quick twist of his lips, and ignores the nagging feeling that he should apologize for imposing. “sounds like he’s the most helpful alarm ever, though,” he nods to jonathan. “you never have to worry about waking up late.”

there’s a pause as he takes a sip of soda, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

        “i’ve been alright. one of the cooks caught the flu or somethin’ and they’ve got me covering his shifts, so things have been hectic lately.” when he remembers himself, and her job, he’s quick to add with a shrug: “as hectic as any diner can be.” which he imagines isn’t any more hectic than the average workday of a nurse. “’side from that, i’ve been putting in more hours at the library. hoping i’ll be busy enough with outside work that my dad’ll stop askin’ for help around the ranch.” it’s light and said around the hint of a smile, as if the biggest issue he has is heavy lifting and scarred hands, not the stench of chemicals clinging to the pasture and the lights that glare through his window at night.

tap.

𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 :   bonfires,   competitiveness,   hand veins,   loud laughs,  messy hair,   sneaking out at 2am,   abandoned beaches,   stray dogs,  candle lights,   body language,  creaking floorboards,   ouija boards,   having no regrets,   karaoke nights out.

𝐓𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐒 :   house plants,  oversized sweaters,  soft hands,  fuzzy socks,   visiting big cities,  snoozing your alarm clock,  the color yellow,   vanilla-scented candles,  aloe vera,  fruit smoothies,  baking cookies,  the mom friend,   loves the ukulele.

𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 :   femme fatale movies,   in love with female villains,  sharp eyeliner,  quick-witted,   does things out of spite,  do no harm but take no shit,   in love with dogs,  probably cries during sad movies but won’t admit it,  easily excited,   ripped jeans.

𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 :   mermaids,  easily infatuated by love,   smelling flowers,   picnics in open fields,   gets sad when thinking about the past,   impressed easily,  daydreaming in class,   plucking fresh fruit,   loves fashion,   would die for their friends.

𝐋𝐄𝐎 :   confident in what they do,   kill them with kindness,  high ponytails,   probably wants to visit paris once,   not afraid to tell the truth,   in love with cute animals,  the one to lift others up,  good at teamwork,  the warm feeling of summer,   dragons.

𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐎 :   pastel markers,  the smell of lavender,   has a welcoming vibe around them,  actually organized,  scrunchies,  neat notes,  loves going to museums,  probably into photography, neutral colors,   handwritten letters,   stardust.

𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀 :   soft blankets,  cuddling the ones you love,  always standing up for your friends, hopeless spurned romantic,   can be very distant,   can be a little dramatic,  pretty hair,  dresses nicely,  tries to be popular on social media,  optimistic,   humorous.

𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐎 :   cottages in the woods,  in love with greek mythology,   vintage t-shirts,  really emotional but doesn’t want anyone to know,  determined,   moonlight,   pretty handwriting,  into the retro aesthetic,  rainy days,  doesn’t judge people,  cats.

𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 :   always ready for an adventure,  street smart,   wants to travel the world someday,   doesn’t easily trust people,   alcohol,   paintbrushes,  can’t sit still,  untied shoelaces,   tangled up earphones,  blasting music at midnight,   eye-gazing.

𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍 :   cold aura,   coffee is what keeps them going,  probably hasn’t slept in two days,   actually a big softie,  high-waisted jeans,   cute pet videos,   small apartments,  has too many notebooks,  often goes to the library,  writing essays.

𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 :   loves to paint & do any kind of art,   wants to live at the seaside,  knows a lot of random facts,  shares food,  messy notes,   bullshits an entire essay,   graffiti,  has their own distinct style,  wants to live their life like they want to.

𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐒 :   old teddy bears,  unsent love letters,  mom-jeans,   loves to sing,   feels at home by the ocean,  writes poetry,  hard-workers,  always up for deep conversations,  probably did the stupid thing,  open curtains,   a soft breeze.

        HEAD  LIFTS  JUST  A  FRACTION.    bony  elbow  plants  into  her  thigh,   chin  rested  into  the  palm  of  hand,    waiting  and  waiting  some  more.    lingering  thought  of  just  when  she’ll  be  home,    schoolwork  awaiting,   holiday  barking  at  the  front  door,   the  smell  of  dinner.    and  susie  can’t  sit  still,    staring  down  at  her  sneakers,   back  to  him,   twisting  hair  around  her  index  finger,   back  to  him.    ❛    i’m  fine.    ❜    thin  fingers  fiddle  with  a  shoelace,   pulling  it  free  from  its  knot.    ❛    just  …  worried.    are  you  sure  you’ll  be  able  to  fix  my  bike,    mister?    ❜

he frowns and drops his gaze to the bike in question. it’s been a while since he last looked at one of these things up close. he’s got his truck and his sister’s partial to skateboards. a bike hasn’t been seen in the owens household for years. still, he’s doing his best, and he figured that’d be enough to instill some confidence, but seems that isn’t the case. not that he blames her. he remembers enough to have the bike propped upside down and his toolbox set out beside it, but everything beyond this point is just a game of ‘see what doesn’t cause irreparable damage’ until it’s fixed. hence his hesitance in picking up the socket wrench.

       ❛    𝚆𝙴𝙻𝙻. 𝙸'𝙼 𝚃𝙾𝚄𝙲𝙷𝙴𝙳.    ❜     she’s smiling, dimples in her cheeks and eyes alight.   just to play up the act, shelly holds a hand to her chest, fake swooning, smile only growing a fraction when she meets his gaze with her own.  the temperature is cooler tonight, the beginnings of autumn, fallen leaves and dreary clouds.  voice softer now, her weight leans against her door, hum comes gentle from parted lips.    ❛     …  𝙳𝙾 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝚃𝙾 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙸𝙽?  𝙼𝙰𝚈𝙱𝙴?  𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙰 𝚂𝙴𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙳.    ❜     

he breathes out a laugh. the huff through his nose almost sounds too loud in the autumn night, but so does everything else. the crunch of gravel under his tires, the soughing sound from the trees beyond them, the rap of knuckles against the door—each still ringing in his ears. the cicadas are gone, and in their place, alarming self-awareness. hands shoved into the pockets of a worn leather jacket, timothy manages a smile, a slight curve of his lips that doesn’t betray the nerves humming under his skin. just for a second.

Grocery shopping was tedious. Large crowds, multiple conversations on at once… and her boys were at school. It was nerve racking. She felt better with them around so she could focus on them, but they weren’t here. As the parent, she made sure to go grocery shopping when possible, especially on her days off. Leona had a knack for pushing it to the last thing on her list for multiple reasons; for the frozen food, and so she could look forward to going home, and Leona did look forward to getting what she needed and leaving. 

Her list was unfortunately longer today, which didn’t help the situation. But she remembered to pace her breathing and focus on where things were…Gripping the cart’s handle tightly, Leona made her way through the store and occasionally looked at her list. 

The Essentials: eggs, milk, chocolate milk, potatoes, 

Cereal, Lucky Charms (Will’s favourite) and Cheerios,

Bread: white and whole wheat buns, hot dog and hamburger buns,

Meat: sausages, bologna, hot dogs, burgers, etc.. 

There was a lot. And if Leona and the boys hadn’t decided to have a barbecue before schooled started again, she wouldn’t have to be running around for extra items. Not that she minded, she was well paid now as she an higher up as a registered nurse. When she walked down the cereal aisle, Leona had went to reach for a box up on a high shelf but stopped when she heard her name. “Y–Yes?” She turned her head and lowered herself back on the balls of her feet. 

“T–Timothy, hi,” It was hard not to forget about him. It’s been how long since they’d seen one another? Suddenly, she felt as if the earth stopped and her anxiety simmered. “How are you?”

timothy doesn’t have a cart. this was supposed to be a get-in-and-get-out situation, the kind that ideally begins and ends in five minutes. he made sure to head straight for the cereal aisle, didn’t spare a glance at the other brands and grabbed his usual oats. any other day and he would’ve made it to the self-checkout area within those ideal minutes. probably would’ve paid and been on his way to the car with seconds to spare. but he turned, his eyes wandered, and now that time frame is long gone with the moments he’s spent staring at her. still staring at her.

he almost doesn’t catch her words when she speaks.

        “i—” he falters, as if he doesn’t know how he is. as if he’s lost himself. and here, in the middle of the aisle with a container of oatmeal in hand, he almost feels as if he has. somewhere between the seconds of recognition he traded the self he’s grown to know for the one he left in texas, a bundle of nervous energy as he looks onto the woman in front of him. there’s a furrow between his brows, gone as quickly as it appears, and he doesn’t sound any more convinced when he continues, “i’m good.”

maybe he should offer more about himself, maybe he should start talking about his job or his education or the nice apartment he moved into a couple months ago, but none of that feels right. it's too sudden, this concept of playing catch-up. he’s still trying to process the fact that she’s here, in the same space as him, at the same time, after all these years. so instead he looks at the box she was reaching for and nods to the shelf. something simple.