sunkissed, worldless

03

There's a sign on the edge of civilization discolored with rust greeting at their entry. It reads:

ROMSEY
Pop. 2 000

The population number had been scribbled out with black paint, though it's been chipping away threatening to wash off within two storms. The number peeking behind it is 35 000, at least, what it used to be.

Romsey still has their town mostly based in the city center where the library was. This surely is a fluke, Rosburg is too, since the residents of Lake Jade had to evacuate to the outskirts closer to the river when the water pumps failed and proceeded to flood the streets. She doesn't know what they did different but Adele never really bogs herself down with engineering unless someone bothers to show her.

They make their way inwards where downtown grew into junctions with weeds peeking between the cracks of the sidewalk and pavement. As Olivia follows behind Adele's tail, she asks about the ivy-strewn buildings, Adele hasn't snooped enough to know. Sacking places was only fun if she has someone to do it with.

But there's a reason no one risks it after six years. Besides, abandoned buildings had always creeped her out.

"Farmer's market first," she reminds her, before Olivia could ride away distracted.

The market here is relatively small, loose tarps hanging on sticks so the sun beating down incessantly doesn't coax them to close early. There's not many drifters these days, as far as Adele could tell anyways, but the supply truckers like to pick out something for themselves in between stops.

They dismount off their bikes and Adele could already feel the strain threatening to bend behind her knee. She leans on her handlebars and wheels alongside her. If Olivia was fazed, she doesn't show it.

She peers wordlessly between crates of vegetables and fruits and weaves through the closest thing to the afternoon rush. The crowd isn't particularly thick so no one really cared about the bikes taking up space as they walk.

Adele stops at an artisan stall where a woman was carving a swallow out of— is that wax— no, that's soap. And it's not just a picture of the bird carved into the side of the bar but a perfectly rendered sculpture. There's wine bottles with their labels peeled off in one corner of the table and behind the stall, she sees crockpots and silicone molds.

Most of the people who sell these kinds of wares moved to the big city on the coast, and she understands the sort of passion to continue what you're doing, because the countryside is miffed about your occupational choices if you're not contributing to the food. And she dreams of writing, but isn't bothered to write it all by hand, or even raiding places for a constant supply of paper.

Soap lady looks up from her work as they approached closer, looks a little startled but manages to land on a customer friendly, "Hi, would you like to buy some soap?"

Adele nods but doesn't answer because she's still deciding for herself. She glances behind her and Olivia too has been taken in by the thorough selection.

Bars of soap lined the wooden table in front of the workbench, with old newspaper spreads and soap shavings. Some are carved, a few in premade shapes and others come in huge blocks but they each have a small inscription that Adele assumes is soap lady's name.

Tia sets down her knife and stands up, takes note of their bikes. "Where are you girls from?"

Adele answers because Olivia doesn't, "Lake Jade."

"Oh, that's not far from here," she says, then sympathetically adds, "I'd imagine it'd take a while on bike though."

"I'm honestly beat," Adele confesses, then laughs. Tia follows the mood and laughs with her. She has a great smile, looks no older than her mid thirties. Adele hasn't seen another black person outside of Lake Jade in forever.

Olivia snaps her kickstand down and rests her bike next to her. "You make these?" She picks one up and brings it up to her nose. because that's, of course, the most natural course of action.

"Yup, these ones are organic," she gestures to a group of milk white bars with dark spots inside, some sort of dried herb maybe. "These ones are ordinary. We have perfumes here too."

"We?" Olivia asks, and maybe Adele think she's finally starting small talk over family, or partner? But she has no ring on her finger so—

"Oh, no, it's just me," she clarifies, offers a small explanation, "'We' just sounds better?"

—that's not right. You don't need a ring to be married, she chides herself. She could've been in love after the Blackout. Who could bother finding a ring then?

Olivia nods, responds to the original dialogue. "I see."

The conversation lulls. "Her family owns a bathhouse," Adele says, it seemed relevant enough.

"Really?" Tia beams and her voice pitches, like she's heard the best news ever told. "Maybe I'd have better luck there. Do business with you guys."

"We could," Olivia murmurs noncommittally, still switching between the different scented soaps. If she was any louder the sniffing would be disconcerting, but thankfully it's nigh unnoticeable.

"Every artisan I know moved to Covina." She thinks about the beach, the big city. Home to the film industry and she supposes having more places to sack means more resources and more chances to rebuild or some people just find it glamorous, what it used to be.

"Right?" Tia pouts, it's somewhat endearing. "I'd go but I don't have a place to stay or how to get there."

"I could help you with that," Adele blurts before she could even think about it. "The driving, I mean."

Tia looks caught off guard, stammers, "You don't have to."

"Oh yeah, no, it's just an offer," she quickly reassures her.

"It's very nice of you though."

"Oh, um Adele," She points to herself then, "Olivia," who perks up at her name then politely raises her hand. If she's already offering a stranger her ride on her truck, she'd might as well know their names. How'd she convince her employer for her to take it out on non-work days is beyond her but she's impulsive at those sorts of decisions.

"Tia."

"I figured." She shrugs, shows the inscription on one of her works.

"Oh," She sounds disappointed even just for a moment, makes an exaggerated facepalm and it reminds her of the quirky but awkward aunt at family reunions. "Right, that makes sense."

They did end up buying something for themselves. Adele buys two bars of soap, something she was going to wrap up and give the Son's anyways. While Olivia picks out a particular bottle of perfume after picking apart it's top notes, even if neither of them could tell what it really was.

She hopes Olivia doesn't play with the lighter she keeps in her pocket. 

"Thanks, Tia," she says, "See you around?"

"Yeah," Tia rubs her fingers against a rough cloth, smiles, "See you girls around."