#roo.

It’s become routine at this point. By the time the sun emerges from the horizon, the caravan echoes with the clink of silverware and cheap plastic. Breakfast is a silent affair, leftovers from last night gone cold, scarfed down in minutes. Her bedhead’s the least of her priorities. She tackles it with one hand and promptly gives up. Ponytail it is. Not like Raehan hasn’t seen it at its worst. At least she’s got most of the frizz under control today.

Over time, they’ve settled into a working pattern. The initial awkwardness of their first meeting seems faraway, a memory that recedes further and further into the back of her mind with each passing day. In its place sits the present-- the two of them in a perfect state of symbiosis. A natural give and take. 

For the most part.

At 9, the scheduled broadcast crackles through the radio: citizens of Normal Earth are advised to stay indoors due to elevated levels of fine dust particles in the air. If necessary, proper masks should be utilized outdoors. Today’s forecast is as follows...The rest she tunes out. None of it really matters anyways. 

The dirt road unfolds ahead of them with an ease of familiarity. What once had been a cityscape now sits at an impasse of dilapidated buildings and abandoned fields, with no clear indication where own town ends and another begins. By the third hour on the road, intuition has Roo’s eyes peeling away from the road to cut across to the passenger’s seat.

He’s been quiet. Too quiet.

“...Weren’t we supposed to make a turn at some point?”

Room 78/45rpm