#clearwaterstarter

Weekends in the summer meant one thing -- the farmers market. As Julien set the jars of pickled vegetables down on the small foldable table, he had to admit that this was his favorite activity of the year. He loved being the city's Mayor, and looked forward to all the responsibilities that came with it, but having his own table at the local farmers' market where he could sell his pickled vegetables made him feel like himself. Like more than just a government official. "So," he began, glancing up as someone approached his table, "what'll you be having this week?"

Aria liked to believe that she was self-sufficient. After she’d left home at eighteen, she’d had no one else to depend on. Just herself. But there were some things that even the most self sufficient person couldn’t do. “Hey,” Aria called to the person beside her. It pained her to have to ask for help, but she’d spent the last five minutes reaching and stretching and completely failing in grabbing the item that was just out of reach of her fingertips. She huffed a little, pointing. “Mind grabbing that for me. I’m a little vertically challenged.”

Even though she hadn't slept much last night, Yarrow had been able to fill her day and keep busy, and she had been ten minutes late to the beginning of her shift this afternoon, which thankfully hadn't been held against her as she had shown up panting and genuinely apologetic. Luckily for her there hadn't been too much customers today as she hadn't been feeling that focused and now her shift was finally over. Dead on her feet, Yarrow signed out and stepped around the counter, sitting down with a huff on a free barstool. She ordered herself a pils, not up for anything stronger, and raised her glass at the person sitting at her side.

"Cheers, hope the group of business students didn't bother you too much they love being loud pompous dicks who think they know more about beer and life than anyone else." She took a sip and hunched down a bit, cupping her chin in her hand. "Did you want more peanuts? I can hop around and fetch some I know their secret cache."

It was difficult to believe that Adoption Week had arrived. Archie had prepped and prepped and prepped some more, and now it was finally here. "We have twenty-five cats looking for homes," he announced. Twenty-five and he was determined to see them all adopted. He'd created individualized posters for each cat that spoke to their interests and likes in the style of dating profiles hoping that the whimsy of it would spurn some interest, as well as put together adoption kits to go home with each cat. He was sure there was more he could have done but, in that moment, he couldn't think of a single thing. Either all of his hard work would pay off or it wouldn't. Only time would tell. "So, I'm sure you'll find someone here that fits your needs. Please feel free to let me know if you need any assistance."

The Cherry Blossom Festival had always been Julien's favorite time of the year. There was something about the flowers that inspired creativity and caused him to believe that life could one day be perfect again; it was an illusion, of course, but Julien didn't mind giving in to it if just for a bit. "So," he said speaking over his shoulder to the person beside him, "how'd I do? Live up to expectations or have you seen better?"

Sebastian was super excited to be in an adult arcade. He had spent a lot of time racing cars, trying to win stuffed animals and now he was looking for some people to see if they could beat him in pinball, he looked over to the person tho his side. "How good are you in pinball. Obviously i'm asking for research purposes." He said with a big smile on his face.

Clearwater had always been home, but within the city limits, there were very few selected places where Ishmael truly felt like he belonged. Bella's Books was one of them. For as long as he could remember, the bookshop had been his place of refuge, somewhere he could curl up in a corner and be unbothered for a few hours. As he aged, it seemed as if life allowed for much fewer of that cherished uninterrupted time. Still, Ishmael made a habit of carving out a few hours each week to sit and take in the tranquility of it all. Self care. It was his way of justifying the fact that he took home a new book every week. “How about a deal,” he said, turning to the person seated a few feet away from him, a desperate effort to break out of his own shell – something his publicist insisted could only help the sale of books. “You tell me about the book you’re currently reading and I’ll buy you a coffee.”

Malachi DuBois was what you'd call a dessert afficionado. He'd never met a sweet treat he didn't like. Still, every now and then, he attempted to be good. Good was boring, in his opinion, but he was sure that his body had different ideas especially the older he got. Now, he was closer to middle aged than he was to his twenties and he needed to take better care of himself. That was what he told the patrons at the gym, and it was about time he started taking his own advice. So, he was starting small with smoothies; they were sweet enough that he could pretend that he was having dessert while being healthy enough that he could convince himself that he was being good. The fact that Main Squeeze was essentially Swolemates' next door neighbor helped. Maybe he could talk to the owner about a collaboration of some sort in the future. "So, he said," addressing the person nearby, "what's good here?"