#i: lucapalermos

[micahhan-blog]

date: August 2023 time: late afternoon location: the roof of the hardware store status: open to @lucapalermos

   Camp had already been made up and the last dredges of sunset were slipping past the gaps in the buildings on the horizon when Micah spotted Luca's long shadow descending down from the roof of the hardware store.  He didn't look like he was moving, only sitting there, staring at the scarlet drenched clouds. For a moment, Micah considered leaving him be. It seemed to him that the only time he and Luca ever had a conversation that wasn't latent with bitterness was when they were both drunk off whatever cheap liquor the group could get their hands on. It was one of the core unspoken rules of their relationship.

   But lately instead of snide comments at his expense, there had only been bristled, awkward silence, and Micah's curiosity was getting the better of him.

   He hefted himself up the ladder, making enough noise that Luca would know he was coming, and walked out over to the edge Luca was sitting on. "Not that you've been very subtle these past four days, but if you jump off this roof and break your ankles trying to get away from me, I'm going to be a little offended."

[masengarcia-blog]

date: august 2023 location: back parking lot [hardware store] availability: closed for @lucapalermos

Looting was, of course, necessary for survival in a world like this. People begged and borrowed and stole whatever it took to keep their skin free of bites and blood pumping through their hearts. So, they stopped places that might have had things they actually needed, like gas, or weapons, or food, fresh water, more weapons. 

Masen liked to look for other things, things everyone else wouldn’t have cared about. Those were the things that told him what he needed to know about people. He remembered a picture of a father and daughter on a fishing trip at that bait shop he’d stopped at in Texas. The back of the picture had a name, and that name had matched the name of the shop, and Masen couldn’t help feeling like he owed these people something, even if that something was as small as remembering them when no one else did.

This time, he’d opened the bottom drawer of an old wooden desk and found mostly your typical desk items: loose staples, writing utensils, extra rolls of tape, some manila folders; he was about to shut the drawer when it caught his eye, small and white.

“I think I just found a joint,” he whispered to Luca, laughing. Masen had always been too afraid to try drugs, both because his physical health was the only part of him people depended on, and because if he failed a drug test his life would’ve been over and his mother’s heart would’ve been crushed. But none of that was a factor anymore, so he held it up for the other boy to see.

“Back parking lot?”