Natural Pressure

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")Your footsteps are heavy on the thin carpet outside of your apartment door. Reaching towards the brand-new knob, you turn it quickly because it’s cold and you know it’s unlocked. Seb is inside, and you can see him as soon as you walk through the door. The couch that he is laying on is wholly spotlighted by your modest TV screen, which is curiously the only light on in the apartment except for the miscellaneous speckles of blues and reds marking various bits of technology scattered around beyond immediate recognition. For some reason, you feel a strong urge to turn the TV off, but you don’t. You walk down the short hall after closing and locking the door behind you, but Seb doesn't seem to immediately notice you. You don't say anything. [[Sit next to Seb.->afterWork2]] [[Go to kitchen and make yourself a drink.->afterWork3]]

(display: "SebCouchImage")(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(if: (history:)'s last is "afterWork1")[You’re tired and conditioned to coming home to the dark, quiet space that is your cat’s domain while you're at work. But Seb is still here, and he’s watching TV under your weird grey blanket on the couch, and you decide to join him.](else:)[You clutch your beverage in your right hand and retrieve your keys from your pocket with your left. As you approach the couch, you notice that Seb is under that weird grey blanket that you always use when you sit in that exact spot to enjoy your morning coffee when you actually manage to get out of bed with time to spare.] You shuffle up to him, drop your keys on the coffee table, and (if: (history:)'s last is not "afterWork1")[settle your drink firmly onto a dingy wooden coaster. (if: (history:)'s last is "afterWork53" and (history:) contains "afterWork50")[Hands free, you return to the refrigerator to get the beer Seb requested, opening it for him in the kitchen before coming back to ](else:)[You ]]gesture for him to scooch. He does, looking away from the screen for just a moment to brace himself for moving over. You start to sit down, only to realize Matata is occupying the rest of the free space and isn't being quite as accommodating. You gingerly pick him up and he, realizing that he's being displaced, clings in futility to the corner of the blanket. Taking his place, you set him in your lap where he settles contentedly for now. Seb is watching something sepia-toned and lethargic. He seems completely engrossed. [[Ask Seb what he’s watching. ->afterWork4]] [[Stay quiet and find out. ->afterWork5]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")You walk through the living area, past the TV and the couch, making your way to the cramped kitchen just behind it separated from the rest of the apartment by half of a wall. The light from the TV screen is bright enough for you to make your way to the fridge, and perhaps more importantly, the small liquor cabinet next to it. You consider your options. [[Make a mixed drink.->afterWork16]] [[Open a beer.->afterWork50]] [[Maybe just a water.->afterWork51]] [[Pour up some plain orange juice.->afterWork52]]

(display: "SebCouchImage")(display: "NinaNeutralImage")You turn towards your brother, who is still enthralled by the screen. “What's this?” you ask, genuinely curious, but more because of Seb than what you’ve seen of the program so far. “It’s a documentary about Operation Desert Storm,” he says, eyes glued. “I didn’t know that you were a doc film type.” “Yeah, well, I guess I am,” he retorts, with only the slightest hint of humor in his voice. [[Poke fun at his choice in entertainment. ->afterWork6]] [[Ask him about his day. ->afterWork7]] [[Watch the documentary. ->afterWork8]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")You decide not to interrupt Seb for now. In the documentary, a series of small tanks are being unloaded from a transport ship. The narrator mentions George H. W. Bush, then Kuwait, then “Arab forces,” then strings of letters and numbers that you assume correlate with weapons and vehicles. Finally, you hear “The Gulf War.” [[Poke fun at his choice in entertainment. ->afterWork6]] [[Ask him about his day. ->afterWork7]] [[Watch the documentary.->afterWork8]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")(Set: $afterWorkTension += 1)You never really enjoyed watching documentaries. Usually, when you want to watch TV it’s because you want to turn off your brain for an hour or two. “Of all the options provided to you by my deluxe twenty-channel package, you choose this,” you state, simply. “Yep,” he mutters. You expected him to reciprocate your sass, but now you just feel like an asshole. [[Keep prodding.->afterWork9]] [[Ask him about his day. ->afterWork10]] [[Watch the documentary. ->afterWork11]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")To try and draw Seb’s attention away from the documentary, you decide to find out how well he fared while presumably lounging with Matata all day. “Sorry again for having to go to work today,” you say. Seb emits a muted grunt of dismissal. “Have you and ‘Tata just been watching movies all day?” “Not all day,” he replies, “but most of it, yeah.” He gestures towards the kitchen. “I finished off the pizza from yesterday, by the way. You were right, it was even better cold.” [[Poke fun at this choice in entertainment. ->afterWork9]] [[Ask him what else he got up to. ->afterWork10]] [[Watch the documentary. ->afterWork11]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")Going against your better judgement, you keep quiet and watch. There is a group of soldiers walking closely together through a camp, their faces all obscured by helmets and cloth. The footage doesn’t seem relevant to what the narrator is saying, but that’s fine with you. Suddenly, one of the soldiers turns to the others - all adamantly sullen - and says something that you can't decipher. All of the others explode with laughter, and the one closest to the perpetrator shoves him to the side. Artillery fire is audible in the background. "...brutal occupation... Instant Thunder.” Sebastian continues to wordlessly stare straight ahead. [[Poke fun at his choice in entertainment.->afterWork9]] [[Ask him about his day.->afterWork10]] [[Keep watching the documentary.->afterWork11]]

(display: "SebCouchCatImage")(display: "NinaHappyImage")(if: (history:)'s last is "afterWork6")[Surely Seb is just being stubborn. You risk another jab at his taste.](elseif: (history:)'s last is "afterWork7")[You wonder if he had been watching boring documentaries all day, or if he was doing it just to bother you.](else:)[Something about the way one of the soldiers is carrying himself and his gear reminds you of something shared between you and Seb.] “Do you remember that weird show we used to watch?” you venture. “About the purple lizard people who fought crime and ate hamburgers? That, my friend, was good TV. If I wanted to hear a monotone opinionated guy talk about wars and politics, I would just go back to Mr. Santorin’s class.” Sebastian cracks a small smile at the mention of his middle school nemesis, but says nothing. [[Try another angle. ->afterWork12]] [[Ask him what else he got up to.->afterWork13]] [[Watch the documentary.->afterWork14]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchCatImage")(if: (history:)'s last is not "afterWork17" and (history:)'s last is not "afterWork18")[(if: (history:)'s last is "afterWork9")[You decide to try and directly divert his attention.] (elseif: (history:)'s last is "afterWork10")[You suddenly feel uncomfortable, and try to change the subject completely.] (elseif: (history:)'s last is "afterWork11")[Quite suddenly, you decide that you’ve had enough.] You’re tired of the mood that the documentary is fostering between the two of you.](elseif:(history:) contains "afterWork14")[Clutching your plate of food, you return to the couch, set down the plate, grab the duct-taped remote off of the table, and change the channel to some unimportant, but colorful reality program. Seb scoots the stool back before settling back down on the couch with you, leaning to retrieve the blanket from the floor.](else:)[Grabbing the duct-taped remote control off of the table and being careful not to upset Matata, you change the channel to some unimportant, but colorful reality program.] “That’s enough of that,” you assert. (if: (history:)'s last is not "afterWork17" and (history:)'s last is not "afterWork18")[“Seriously?” Seb is incredulous, but not entirely upset at your behavior. If you thought he would be, you wouldn’t have done it. You vouched on the theory that maybe he hadn’t changed so much after all. “Yeah, seriously,” you chime.](else:)["I'm not sure if you're talking to me or the TV." Seb glares at you, and then at his own hands. The look on his face makes you wonder about how much he's really changed since you've seen him last.] The newly-featured show projects a sickly-white glow across the coffee table. Two women are chattering angrily at one another near an empty swimming pool. Sebastian sighs, and you raise an eyebrow at him. “You should come home,” he says. [[Say nothing.->afterWork19]] [[Express surprise.->afterWork20]] [[Express curiosity.->afterWork21]] [[Express frustration.->afterWork22]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")You get the feeling that Seb is trying to avoid telling you something. “So if you haven’t been doing this all day,” you prod, “what else have you been up to?” The narrator of the documentary shushes for a moment and lets the primary footage do all of the talking. After some well-measured hesitation, Seb replies, “Dad called.” A tank crawls across a desert. “He used to fix tanks just like that one, you know.” “I know.” You were born right before he left to fight. Seb was three. Mom made sure that you knew that. [[Change the channel.->afterWork12]] [[Ask about the phone call.->afterWork13]] [[Watch the documentary.->afterWork14]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")You look back to the screen and sigh. Just as before, all you see are shades of brown and same-looking soldiers making plans, shooting artillery weapons, and scanning for mines. Bored, you turn your attention to Matata. You place your hand on his warm back and he immediately starts to purr. It resonates through your legs and seems so much more real than any of the gunfire on the screen. The narrator is droning, “...chemical attack... morale officers.” [[Change the channel.->afterWork12]] [[Ask Seb about his situation.->afterWork13]] [[Wait it out until the end.->afterWork14]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")(Set: $afterWorkTension += 1)(if: (history:)'s last is "afterWork9")[You’re certain that Seb did something else worth noting with his day. “Come on,” you tease, “tell me about the Friday Adventures of Seb and ‘Tata!”](elseif: (history:)'s last is "afterWork11")[Matata stops purring and your attention turns back towards Sebastian. His standoffish behavior makes you think that he's resisting telling you something. He's staring at the screen and his eyebrows are tightly pulled together, so he looks like he's thinking about something else entirely. "So, Seb," you venture, "were you not planning to visit me unless you got dumped at the curb?"](elseif: (history:)'s last is "afterWork10")[You take the bait. “Well, what did he say?”] “It doesn’t matter,” Seb breathes, his words camouflaged with a loaded sigh. You’re skeptical. [[Try another angle.->afterWork12]] [[Watch the documentary.->afterWork14]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")(if: (history:)'s last is not "afterWork11")[Your attention veers back to the documentary. It seems to be nearing its end.](else:)[Surely, the documentary is almost over. You’ve made it this far, so you don’t want to turn back now.] The narrator talks a lot, but you mainly pick up on keywords. “Saddam Hussain.” “US Marines.” “3,000 civilians.” The color palette begins to change: more reds, and even a trace of blue. There are helicopters flying purposefully above a city, and then a small parade. You’re celebrating with them, though for undoubtedly different reasons. The credits begin to roll, and you tap your cat’s rear to get him to move. He grudgingly obliges, vanishing down the hall. You stand and twist around to view the kitchen. “So, I suppose you aren’t hungry, then,” you ponder, eyeing the empty pizza box sitting on top of the trash can. “Nah,” Seb states, standing to stretch and letting the blanket fall onto the floor. “Well, I am.” You walk over to the kitchen. Seb follows, pulling out a stool so that he can sit at the counter. You retrieve some leftover spaghetti from the humming refrigerator and press a few buttons on the microwave. “So, what did you think?” Seb ventures. “About what?” “The documentary. What did you think?” (link: "Be honest.")[(set: $sebHonest to true)(goto: "afterWork15")] (link: "Fib.")[(set: $sebHonest to false)(goto: "afterWork15")]

(display: "NinaHappyImage")(display: "SebCouchCatImage")(if: $sebHonest is true)[You aren’t sure what Seb expects you to say, but if he's asking, you suppose he wants an honest answer. “It was incredibly boring,” you respond. Seb laughs, wiping his eye with his palm tiredly, tapping the fingers of his other hand on the counter. “Yeah, it kind of was, wasn’t it?”](elseif: $sebHonest is false)[You thought that the documentary was a completely boring waste of time, but you didn’t want to hurt Seb’s feelings. You strike a middle ground. “It wasn’t *that* bad,” you say. “I’ve seen worse.” “Well," Seb asserts, "I thought it was terrible.” You both laugh. The look in his eye tells you that he’s sure you secretly agree.] The joke was much needed. You were starting to think that he had gotten really boring since you left for college, and it was making you tense. The last thing Sebastian said to you in person until now had been an inauthentic joke about the light fixtures in your dorm. Remembering that makes you anxious. “So... why exactly did we watch it?” You inquire. “Well,” he sighs, “one of Dad’s old high school friends helped to produce it. They sent some people out to the house and asked him some questions about artillery and stuff.” Seb cracks his knuckles idly and leans back, nearly forgetting that the stool offers no back support. “But it looks like his interview didn’t make the final cut. I was curious, is all.” [[Make a joke.->afterWork17]] [[Ask what Dad thinks.->afterWork18]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")You spy some orange juice - with some pulp - in the fridge, and you know you have some vodka in the cabinet. So, you absent-mindedly splash the two together. Taking a sip, you wrinkle your nose in approval before turning towards the couch. [[Ask Seb if he wants one.->afterWork53]] [[Sit next to Seb.->afterWork2]]

(Set: $gameSaved to false)(Set: $isLate to false)(Set: $hasBrunch to false)(Set: $parkStreetVisited to false)(Set: $clockedIn to false)(Set: $workPhone to false)(Set: $offeredOrange to false)(Set: $sebHonest to true)(Set: $afterWorkTension to 0)(Set: $afterWorkThreshold to 8)(Set: $satAt to "")(Set: $negChoice to false)

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")(Set: $afterWorkTension += 1)You're not sure what you're supposed to say. You guess that you should feel proud, or interested, or something. Dad being in the documentary would probably just mean that you'd get to hear the same two stories that he has to tell. Maybe you would feel differently if the interview had made the final cut. "And here I was, thinking that there was no way it could get even more boring," you quip. The credits end, the dramatic music slows down, and Sebastian doesn't laugh. His fingers tap anxiously on a wad of blankets for a moment, before he mumbles "at least then maybe you would have an excuse to see him." [[Change the channel.->afterWork12]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")Your dad takes a lot of pride in his highly exaggerated war expertise. You wonder if he's seen the documentary, if he likes it, or if he cares. "What does Dad think?" you ask. Sebastian shrugs his shoulders. "It just came out. I just watched it. I have no idea." The microwave beeps, and you turn to fetch your spaghetti. "If I had to guess, though," Sebastian says, "he's probably pissed, considering how much he's been talking about it since that darn interview." "Maybe it's for the best," you venture. "For the film, and Dad's ego." The credits end, and the dramatic music slows down. The next program starts. [[Change the channel.->afterWork12]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")(Set: $afterWorkTension += 1)You try not to respond at all, instead turning your head to the TV. The background is too white in your otherwise inky apartment. Still, you stare into it. Specifically, you find yourself fixated on the rare swatches of unmoving color in the background. "Nina," Seb marked. He didn't say it as a question, but you knew it was. Instead of replying, you relax your face and sigh. Sebastian seems to interpret this as a form of resignation. "Nina, it's been ages. I can't believe I've had to come to you in person in order to say this, but I guess saying it on the phone doesn't really mean anything. Dad misses you. Mom probably does too, I mean, would it be a big deal for you to come and visit every once in a while? You know?" There is a beat, and Seb inhales audibly. He clearly has had this pent up inside him for a while. Even though you hadn't said anything to trip him up, he looks at you with sharp, pleading eyes as if trying to implant the over-rehearsed version of his spiel into your head. You take a moment to process what he said. [[Communication is a two-way street.->afterWork23]] [[Change the subject.->afterWork24]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")You're taken aback, and for a moment you wish you hadn't tried to nudge him towards making his point. The thought of going home hadn't occurred to you since you graduated college and had to visit out of obligation during your rare holidays. Those visits were somewhat painful, and you had been happy to no longer feel that obligation aside from emergencies. "Wow," you say, "so *this* is why you came, huh? I can't believe it. I thought you all would be happy to be rid of... what was it? My 'high-and-mighty city girl attitude?'" You can tell that some of Dad's last words to you are hard for him to hear. Something seems to rise inside Sebastian. "Nina, it's been ages. I can't believe I've had to come to you in person in order to say this, but I guess saying it on the phone doesn't really mean anything. Dad misses you. Mom probably does too, I mean, would it be a big deal for you to come and visit every once in a while? You know?" There is a beat, and Seb inhales audibly. He clearly has had this pent up inside him for a while. Even though you hadn't said anything to trip him up, he looks at you with sharp, pleading eyes as if trying to implant the over-rehearsed version of his spiel into your head. You take a moment to process what he said. [[Communication is a two-way street.->afterWork23]] [[Change the subject.->afterWork24]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")Home. Now, that's a thought. You wonder what made Seb think that you wanted to hear such a thing. You haven't thought about going home in ages. You stopped feeling the obligation to do so when Dad stopped asking and Mom stopped acting like she cared. "Are you serious?" you prod. "Is this why you came to see me? To try and convince me to follow you back home? Why?" Sebastian nods sadly, trying to avoid looking embarrassed. "We miss you, Nina," he says. "Dad put you up to this, didn't he?" Seb tightens his lips and draws his eyebrows closer together. You exhale like a valve, releasing air through your teeth in a righteous hiss. "Yeah, I thought so. I guess he just can't fathom that I can be happy away from there, huh?" Sebastian weaponizes your question. "Nina, it's been a long time, and you're family. I can't believe I've had to come to you in person in order to say this, but I guess saying it on the phone doesn't really mean anything to you. Dad misses you. Mom probably does too, I mean, would it be a big deal for you to come and visit every once in a while? You know?" There is a beat, and Seb inhales audibly. He clearly has had this pent up inside him for a while. Even though you hadn't said anything to trip him up, he looks at you with sharp, pleading eyes as if trying to implant the over-rehearsed version of his plea into your head. You take a moment to process what he said. [[Communication is a two-way street.->afterWork23]] [[Change the subject.->afterWork24]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")(Set: $afterWorkTension += 2)He says it like it's no big deal. After Dad acted the way he did on your last visit. After Mom stopped caring about anything. After Seb was content to stay and you did all you could to leave. "What?" You spout, disguising your outrage at first with incredulity. "'I should come home?' You've got to be joking." You stand up and step away from the couch, turning your back to him and facing the hallway and the door. You try to not let it get to you, but having just come home from work, your patience is running thin. You throw your hands into the air. "What did you expect, Sebastian? Did you expect me to drop everything and say, 'huh, wow, you're right, I should come home, how come I never thought of that?' You know just as well as I do that I'm fine here and I am happy to worry about more than whether or not we have enough firewood for the month, which shithead drunk teenager shot my dog, or if I can afford another sixpack from the nasty old bootlegger." Color rushes to Seb's face, anger and frustration welling up within him in tandem with yours. "Nina, it's been a long time, and you're family. I can't believe I've had to come to you in person in order to say this, but I guess saying it on the phone doesn't really mean anything to you. Dad misses you. Mom probably does too, I mean, would it be a big deal for you to-" "No, stop right there. Don't say another fucking word. It *is* a big deal." There is a beat, and Seb inhales audibly. Both of you have had this pent up inside for a while. He looks at you sharply, and you return in kind. Your interruption disarmed him, which is good because you don't really want to hear what else he had to say, and something tells you that he didn't really want to say it anyway. You sit back down, and the TV program seems to mock you with laughter and insincere bickering alternating without fail. [[Change the subject.->afterWork24]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")(Set: $afterWorkTension += 1)"If it's not such a big deal," you say, "then why hasn't anyone given me a call, or a visit, or so much as a birthday card since college?" You stare at him expectantly, but it seems like he's finished. For some reason, you start to imagine him listening to Billy Squier on his ride up here with Johnny P., the worn CD player starting to skip halfway through "The Stroke." He's in the passenger seat, framing his case to you over and over until he's sure that there are no possible counterpoints, and that you'll be happily driving him on the ride home. "It's just as easy for them to come see me here," you affirm, slinking back into the couch. Seb doesn't respond. [[Change the subject.->afterWork24]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchCatImage")You really aren't in the mood for this right now. Your hand finds its way to the bridge of your nose, interrupting your view of the TV. "Well, this came out of nowhere," you profess. Seb shakes his head solemnly. You sigh again, and this time it turns into something of a grunt. "Listen, can we talk about this tomorrow? I just got off of work. I'm beat. Did you feed Matata? I bet he's hungry. And now that I mention it, so am I." Before Sebastian has the chance to say anything, you get off of the couch, setting Matata gently on the floor before walking pointedly towards the cat's fancy combination food and water bowl at the entrance to the kitchen. It's almost full. You stare at it for a moment, then you glance at the clock on the wall above. It's just after eight, so you can't really use sleep as an excuse to not have anything to talk about.(if: (history:) contains "afterWork50")[ Seb sits up for just a moment and takes a deep swig of his beer. You see him make a sour face that could mean that it's good, bad, or just warm. The can lands back on the table.] Luckily for you, Sebastian is unsure of how to press the subject of family visitation for now, and instead turns his attention towards Matata. "I really like your cat," he says. Matata has found his way into Seb's lap. (if:(history:) contains "afterWork14")[[[Sit back down.->afterWork25]]](else:)[[[Find something to eat.->afterWork25]]] [[Ask about Dog.->afterWork26]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")Since Matata's food seems to be in a good state, (if:(history:) contains "afterWork14")[you spin around on your heels and head back to the couch. The spaghetti that you heated up earlier is still untouched on the table. It was lukewarm before, and now you're sure it's cold. You lean over it and insert your fork, spinning it in a circle to maximize the noodles you can bring to your mouth in one trip. Taking a noisy bite, you confirm that it's cold.](else:)[you approach the refrigerator in order to tend to yourself. You skip the main compartment and go straight to the freezer, reaching your hand inside and scavenging around in the cold dark until you feel the familiar damp shape of a box. Frozen burritos. You empty the last two tasty lumps of icy calories into the microwave. Satisfied with your scavenged meal, you return to the couch.] Sebastian looks guilty. Matata looks comfy. [[Suggest to change the channel again.->afterWork27]] [[Find something else to talk about.->afterWork28]]

(display: "NinaHappyImage")(display: "SebCouchCatImage")Seeing Sebastian with Matata reminds you of his best friend, Dog. "Is Dog still flapping?" you inquire, not resisting the smile that comes to your lips at the mention of the cockatoo's ridiculous name. Sebastian dubbed him in seventh grade. It was funny then, and somehow you still find it funny now. "Oh, ha," he beams, "yeah, he's still around. Barely. He's got to be, what, thirteen? Twelve? And still full of fire and brimstone." Seb pauses to croon at the seething ball of fur in his lap. "I mainly keep him out of his cage now." His hand rests on Matata's head. "You know, I think Dog might miss you the most. Every once in a while he still starts to sing that stupid Baha Men song that you taught him." "No regrets," you say. Seb emits a laugh. "You wouldn't." (if:(history:) contains "afterWork14")[[[Sit back down.->afterWork25]]](else:)[[[Find something to eat.->afterWork25]]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")You're aware that the show currently on the TV is horrible, but you find it easier to watch than that dry documentary. Regardless, you sense that the vacuous gibberish might be starting to irritate Sebastian. So, it might be for both of your benefits to change it. "Do you want me to find something else to put on?" you ask, perhaps too enthusiastically, since it causes Sebastian to startle and Matata to follow suit. "No," he says after readjusting, "this is fine. Leave it." "Are you sure, I promise I don't-" "Leave it." After that, there's silence. [[Find something else to talk about.->afterWork28]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")You feel the need to keep talking so that you don't have to listen to the squawking people on TV. "So, where do you live now?" "I bought the house near the Harrison's, on the other side of Mount Randall from Dad. Remember, the one that Old Sal lived in? With the weird tree?" he explains. You do remember, in detail. You have a vivid memory of heading to that house in Dad's ancient red truck, the tree the only thing immediately visible outside the passenger window. You were young enough that he didn't want to leave you alone at home with Seb, but it was also the day after the old bootlegger's restock. So, he made the trip. You spent a great deal of time sitting in the truck that day and after, bored, reading books while the old friends gossiped out of sight. [[Ask more about his living situation.->afterWork29]] [[Act impressed.->afterWork30]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchCatImage")Even though you could probably guess, you decide to prompt Seb for more details about his living situation. "So, do you like living there? Is it just you?" you ask. "It's just me and Dog," he replies. "I do like it there. You know I like the quiet. I've got a little garden; something besides Dog and video games to occupy me when I get done being a boat ape. It's more relaxing than any of those other things, to be honest." "Well, I'm glad to hear you're happy there," you state. He knows you well enough to read into the importance of your wording. "Yeah," he says, "me too." [[Ask about his job.->afterWork31]] [[See if there is anything that Seb wants to do while he's visiting.->afterWork32]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")(Set: $afterWorkTension += 1)"Yeah. Wow, it's cool that you have your own place," you say. You know how much cheaper cost of living is back home, but you're still impressed that Seb is in his own house. "Yeah. I like it. It's quiet," Seb says, simply. You get the feeling that he was expecting a different reaction, somehow. He knows that you probably have mixed feelings about that house, because you always resented Dad for spending so much time there. Seb had told you that he carried canoes around for tourists to pay his bills, and you can't help but wonder how he can make payments on a house, and how he ended up there in the first place. [[Ask about his job.->afterWork31]] [[Ask what happened to Old Sal.->afterWork33]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchCatImage")(if: (history:)'s last is "afterWork30")["So you're a boat ape, huh?" you ask, even though you know the answer. He'll give the details.](else:)["I have to say," you start, "I'm not sure how I feel about you still driving around tourists and carrying their crap to the river for next-to-nothing."] "Yeah. It's grunt work, but I enjoy it. A lot of the other apes talk about tourists like they are a burden on our little redneck Eden, but I think they're great. Gives me a reason to wake up every morning. I think of it like I'm showing them something beautiful, you know?" You nod politely and smile, trying to remember that beauty. "What does Dad think about it? He always used to say that it was just a job for stupid kids who want to spend their summers ruining their backs. 'Hauling canoes is for-'" "-jerks with tattoos," Seb finishes, deadpan. "He makes jokes about it, but I don't think he really cares." You find that hard to believe. "You like it, though?" "It pays the bills. And it keeps me on my toes. Carrying boats, driving shuttles, handing out those dumbass litter bags, cracking jokes... it's not so bad." You can picture him on the riverbank perfectly: unphased by the sand in his shoes and the sweat in his eyes. "Do you have any tattoos?" He smirks. [[Ask what happened to Old Sal.->afterWork34]] [[Express concerns about his income.->afterWork35]] [[See if there is anything that Seb wants to do.->afterWork36]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")You're tired of talking about places that you don't care to remember. You're happy that Seb is here, but you're more interested in *now* than *then*. There has to be something else that Seb wants to do with you while he can. "What are your plans for the rest of your time in town? I bet I could come up with a lot of places you'd like to visit. Have you ever been to the park? It's only a few blocks away, and it's great. Do you have any friends in town? Or..." you start to run out of steam, so you look at him with a curious pout and raise your shoulders. "If you want, we can do some stuff tomorrow. It's your day off, right?" he asks, and you nod. "Cool. But really, I'm up for whatever. I just wanted to spend a day or two with you, to catch up. It really is weird, you know, how long it's been since you've come home." [[Ask what home is.->afterWork34]] [[Suggest some more activities.->afterWork40]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")You aren't sure how you feel about Sebastian living in Sal's weird old house. You've never been inside, but you just have a feeling that it was a wreck, at least when he was still living there. "So you're there by yourself, then? Surely you aren't bunking with Sal?" "Oh, Lord no," he blurts. His face scrunches up. "It's just me and Dog. Sal's been out of there for a couple of years. Last I heard he's in a home, but no matter where he is, he's keeping to himself." "Why did he move out? Was he sick?" you inquire. "Sick in the head, more like," Seb says, and leaves it at that. [[Ask if there is anything Seb wants to do while he's visiting.->afterWork36]] [[Joke about Seb being in the house.->afterWork39]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")(Set: $afterWorkTension += 1)(if: (history:)'s last is "afterWork31")[(display: "NinaNeutralImage")You aren't completely sure what that smirk means, but you have a feeling that Seb fits right in at work. He probably fits right in at that weird old house, too. ](else:)[Although you know "home," for Seb, means where you grew up, it's hard for you to see it the same way anymore. "Seb, I already am home," you say. "And what's home for you now, anyway? Some old ratty bootlegger's shack?" "You know what I mean." "Yes, I do. But just don't think that you can guilt trip me by talking about 'home.'" Seb goes quiet, and you almost feel bad. "I guess it's pretty cool that you're in your own place," you say, apologetically. There's no response. You try again: ]"So you're at that house by yourself, then? Surely you aren't bunking with Sal?" "Oh, Lord no," he blurts. His face scrunches up. "It's just me and Dog. Sal's been out of there for a couple of years. Last I heard he's in a home, but no matter where he is, he's keeping to himself." "Why did he move out? Was he sick?" you inquire. "Sick in the head, more like," Seb says, and leaves it at that. [[Ask what he thinks of your place.->afterWork43]] [[Ask Seb if he's happy.->afterWork44]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")(Set: $afterWorkTension += 1)(if: (history:)'s last is "afterWork31")[You know that working on the river doesn't pay much. There's a reason that almost everyone doing it is in high school, besides the raw endurance required for the job. "It 'pays the bills,' huh?" you prod, then pause. You look at Seb through the corner of your eye. "Does it, though? Living by yourself, *in a house*, and a seasonal grunt job is all that you need?"](elseif: (history:)'s last is "afterWork40")[You really don't want him to throw what little money he has around to try and impress you. "Are you sure you'd be able to afford something like that? I promise that I'm fine with getting fried chicken around the corner." "Don't worry about it," he says. "This is a special occasion, I'd be happy to splurge." "Do you mean to tell me that a seasonal grunt job gives you enough money to buy me an upscale steak dinner?" you prod, then pause. "If Dad feeding us off of food stamps is any indicator, then I find it hard to believe."](else:)[] Sebastian doesn't answer. You go on, teasingly, "Man, I'm jealous. That doesn't sound too bad after all!" Seb sneers. "Pretty much," he says, mouth pursed and gaze locked onto the somewhat frayed arm of the couch. His posture freezes up, and Matata rolls his haunch around to get more comfortable. "You know what, let's talk about *your* job, then," Seb dictates, still looking away. "If it's so great." [[Eduacte him about *exactly* what you like about your job.->afterWork41]] [[Duck the question.->afterWork42]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchCatImage")(Set: $afterWorkTension += 1)Seb is full of surprises. Being here right now is one of them. You decide to try and make plans for tomorrow, to make the best out of Seb's surprises. "So, what do you want to do tomorrow?" you ask, hoping that he will at least give you some direction. On the TV, a group of people are enjoying an expensive dinner. "You're the one who is supposed to be local. Why don't you lead, and I'll follow," Seb replies. "Come on," you press, "you have to have some idea of what you want to do while you're here. It's a special occasion!" "I'm already doing it," he says, tuned in to the brazed fish that is being carried to a white clad table. He continues to clarify his point by lovingly sliding his hand down Matata's back. [[Propose something cheap.->afterWork45]] [[Suggest that he stop freeloading.->afterWork46]]

(display: "NinaHappyImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")You're not sure if Seb being alone there is better or worse. "So what do you do by yourself there all day?" you tease. "There are so many possibilities. I bet you have a lovely little flower garden. Or maybe you took up your predecessor's mantle, and you resell alcohol that everyone else is too lazy to drive to the state line to get! Or, perhaps most likely, you sit around and play video games and masturbate!" Seb winces. "I'll tell you what," he says, "one of those things is right on the button." You don't doubt it. "How much is your mortgage?" you prod. "How much is your rent?" Seb shoots back. Answering questions with other questions is his favorite way of changing the subject. [[Express concerns about his income.->afterWork35]] [[Confess your financial status.->afterWork45]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")Even though Seb says that he's up for whatever, you have a hard time flat out choosing something to do of your own accord, even more so choosing something to do with someone else. So, you decide to provide some more options. "We could go to the movies! There's not a theater for miles from your house, so that could be fun. There are also a lot of great bars in town," you say, (if: (history:) contains "afterWork50")[eyeing Seb's beer, which is sitting hardly touched on the coffee table, ]"if you're interested in that." "Nah," he says, adamant, "no bars." "Okay..." you say, "Well, I might be running out of ideas, then." "I thought that the city was more interesting than the country," Seb teases. You scoff. "What about restaurants?" he continues. "Name a place that you've always wanted to go to, but have never had an excuse. Somewhere nice!" You laugh. "Seb, the nice restaurants here aren't the same as they are back home. Chinese buffet isn't 'nice.' But I bet I can come up with something." Seb rolls his eyes. [[Express concerns about his income.->afterWork35]] [[Ask what he thinks about it here.->afterWork43]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")(Set: $afterWorkTension += 2)"Sure, let's do that, then," you say. "My job is great because I'm not out of work when the river dries up. It's great because I don't get covered in dirt and sweat and beer and fish piss. I don't have to deal with macho alpha male neanderthals on a daily basis. I don't have to put on a happy face for tourists who get shitfaced and throw glass onto the riverbank as soon as I'm not looking. I don't have to do anything sleazy to pay the bills when it's not tourist season. I get my weekends to myself, and also I get dental." For the first time tonight, Sebastian's anger makes its way to his voice. "Geez Nina, chill. Why are you attacking me? I just..." He takes a deep breath and immediately calms. "I just miss when we were kids." You take a deep breath, too and look away. "Yeah." (if: $afterWorkTension >= $afterWorkThreshold)[[[Go to bed.->afterWork48]]](else:)[[[Go to bed.->afterWork55]]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")If he's deflecting, then so can you. You glance behind you at the clock in the kitchen, its face littered with off-green polka dots, and are pleased to notice that it's finally a passable time to go to bed. "My job doesn't matter. It's a job," you say, calmly. "I think it does." You find yourself reaching over and tugging on Matata's tail, which is draped over the side of the couch. You secretly hope that he will get annoyed and move to snuggle with you instead. He doesn't. "I'll tell you one thing about my job. It makes me pretty tired when I get home," you say. (if: $afterWorkTension >= $afterWorkThreshold - 1)[[[Go to bed.->afterWork48]]](else:)[[[Go to bed.->afterWork55]]]

(display: "NinaHappyImage")(display: "SebCouchCatImage")You both stop talking for a moment, and once again the noise from the TV greedily fills the space and seeps into your pores. "So," you say, once again jarring the silence, "what do you think?" "Of what?" "Of this place." "It's (if: (history:)'s last is "afterWork34")[busy and loud](else:)[kind of small], just like I expected," Seb states. You touch your palm to your face and let it drop. "I mean the (if: (history:)'s last is "afterWork34")[apartment](else:)[city], dummy," you amend. Seb smiles knowingly. "Oh! Well in that case, it's (if: (history:)'s last is "afterWork34")[kind of small](else:)[busy and loud]." His smile widens. You sigh, and look back at the TV, ready for it to overwhelm you again. "But I guess it could be worse." You look back at Sebastian, and his gaze finally softens. (if: $afterWorkTension >= $afterWorkThreshold)[[[Go to bed.->afterWork48]]](else:)[[[Go to bed.->afterWork55]]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")(Set: $afterWorkTension += 1)You decide to ask Sebastian the question that's really been eating away at you all along. Though you regret voicing it in such a pointed manner as soon as it leaves your mouth, you ask, "Are you happy there?" "Yeah," he replies without any hesitation, "it's home." As he enunciates "home" you begin to realize that he is once again regressing to a script. "Are you? Happy, that is," Seb continues. "Yeah," you say, "it's home." (if: $afterWorkTension >= $afterWorkThreshold)[[[Go to bed.->afterWork48]]](else:)[[[Go to bed.->afterWork55]]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchCatImage")(if: (history:)'s last is "afterWork36")[You're out of ideas. Sebastian seems adamant in not wanting to make any decisions about how to spend your day off, and the only reason that you want to do anything special at all is because of him.](else:)[He may be evading your questions, but he has a point. Your rent takes up most of your paycheck. "Enough to make me eat frozen burritos(if: (history:) contains "afterWork50")[, drink Mountain Blue Lite," you gesture towards Seb's coaster, "](else:)[ ]and use coupons by the bushel." "What does that mean for our fun day off tomorrow?" Seb asks.] "Well, since it's how you seem to want to spend your time," you venture, "we can just hang out here all day, watching movies and eating pizza. That's how my leisure time usually goes." "That sounds boring," he says. You sigh. After a moment, he continues, "I have an idea. We should definitely get out of here. I'm not going to tell you where until tomorrow, though." You're curious, but relieved. You can settle for that. "Awesome, sounds great," you say. (if: $afterWorkTension >= $afterWorkThreshold)[[[Go to bed.->afterWork48]]](else:)[[[Go to bed.->afterWork55]]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")(Set: $afterWorkTension += 1)Sebastian's answer is frustrating. He's trying to make you feel guilty, and you're unsure whether he's referring to his mission at hand or his presence here in your apartment. Either way, you don't appreciate it. "Well if you're just here for the sake of being here, and are just going to sit around watching TV, maybe you should just go home right now. I guess we can't even talk without accusing me of something. I was actually starting to look forward to spending time with my brother after so many years, but I don't appreciate a freeloading guilt-tripper." Apparently you raised you voice a bit more than intended. Matata glowers at you with wide, alert eyes. So does Sebastian. "Freeloading? You think that's what I'm doing?" He scoffs. "For your information, I was planning on paying for everything that I can while I'm here. And yeah, maybe I'm trying to guilt you. So what?" At least he is being honest. You look to Matata, who breaks his gaze to curl back up in Seb's lap. You quietly echo Seb's words, "So what..." (if: $afterWorkTension >= $afterWorkThreshold)[[[Go to bed.->afterWork48]]](else:)[[[Go to bed.->afterWork55]]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebCouchImage")You promptly stand up and stretch. "It's time for bed," you state. "Oh, is it?" Seb says with sarcasm. He keeps watching TV. "At least it is for me," you say, "if we want to do anything tomorrow." "Whatever you say, boss." Seb slides down into the couch, his feet occupying the space that you were sitting in moments ago. The movement disturbs your cat, and he hops down off of the couch. You have nothing more to say. So, you leave the living room and head to your bedroom. Glancing back, you see Matata following close at your feet, Seb still watching TV, the remote completely out of his immediate reach. (link: "End.")[(goto: "Ch3")]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")You just want to crack something open so you can sit down and relax on the couch with Sebastian, so you open the fridge and pull out a cold one from the second-cheapest twelve-pack of beer sitting on the bottom shelf. It sizzles open in your hand, and you turn toward the couch. [[Ask Seb if he wants one.->afterWork53]] [[Sit next to Seb.->afterWork2]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")After some hesitation, you decide just to hydrate. Opening the cabinet and taking the second-to-last clean glass, you let it hover under the faucet as you turn it on with your other hand. You drink half of the glass while standing at the sink, and then fill it back up the rest of the way. You turn towards the couch. [[Ask Seb if he wants a glass.->afterWork53]] [[Sit next to Seb.->afterWork2]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")You decide against having any alcohol before dinner, but crave something a little more interesting than water. So, popping open the refrigerator, you spy a carton of orange juice - with some pulp - and fill up your second-to-last clean glass from the cabinet. You turn towards the couch. [[Ask Seb if he wants a glass.->afterWork53]] [[Sit next to Seb.->afterWork2]]

(display: "SebCouchCatImage")(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(if: (history:)'s last is "afterWork50")[He seem to think about it for a moment. "Depends," he growls, "is it overpriced hipster crap?" He pauses. "Because if so, I'd love one." "Oh, sorry. I forgot that your palette is too delicate for Mountain Blue Lite," you retort. "Yeah, fine, I'll take one," he says, still watching TV. "Thanks." "I bet it feels weird to drink an honest beer, huh? Here in the Big City, we can get it without being shady or driving for half an hour. Crazy, right?" "Huh?" Sebastian mumbles, in such a way that it seems like he is pretending to have not heard you. He continues to not make eye contact. "Oh... yeah. Dry counties suck."](elseif: (history:)'s last is "afterWork51")[He seems to think about it for a moment. At least, you think that's what he's doing; he doesn't turn around. "Eh, I think I'm good," he says, "thanks though." Well, you tried to be hospitable at least.](else:)[(Set: $afterWorkTension += 1)(Set: $offeredOrange to true)He turns and looks at you incredulously for a moment. "Are you serious?" "Yeah?" you respond, confused by the particulars of his reaction. "I can't stand pulp," he says, looking back at the TV. "I checked earlier, and I know your juice has it. Geez, Nina, you should know that." You didn't quite expect that much aggression in regards to your orange juice preference, but you decide not to push it. ] [[Sit next to Seb.->afterWork2]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCouchCatImage")You stand up to stretch. "I think it's my bedtime," you say. "Yeah, me too." Sebastian immediately tugs on the blanket and Matata hops off. In a matter of seconds, Seb is fully submerged in the couch and Matata is once again settled securely on top of him as king of the matted grey mountain. You hear a muffled "'night" from somewhere underneath. "Let's get up at a decent hour and do something fun tomorrow," you propose. After a moment, Seb is able to snake his hand out from beneath the covers to present you with a promising thumbs-up. On the coffee table, you see the TV remote, firmly planted just outside of Sebastian's immediate reach. The same show is still playing - some sort of dry evening marathon - and it's bright and loud and distracting. So, you pick up the remote and switch it off before getting ready for bed, Matata and Seb looking secure in theirs. (link: "End.")[(goto: "Ch3")]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(Set: $timeHour to 8)(Set: $timeMinute to 44)You're worried that you are going to be late. It would normally only be another five minutes or so until you arrive at work, but there's an accident on the intersection of 24th and Harbor. You were right behind it when it happened. You haven't moved since then, and the clock on your worn dash reads $timeHour:$timeMinute. It looks like no one was injured, but since the accident occurred in the dead-center of the intersection, it's completely blocked. A police car arrives, alone. It occupies the sliver of remaining space behind the large, relatively-unscathed truck, its back half pristine and untouched by the incident. You suppose that the cop wanted to park as far away from the damage as possible without separating herself from her duties completely. The two drivers are standing face-to-face, each waving his arms and acting as if his vehicle is a child and the other driver is a rabid boar. You weigh your options. Your manager, Jeremy, is unpredictable, and you don't know how he will react to your third late mark this month. [[Wait it out.->intro2]] [[Pull a U-turn and find a way around.->intro3]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")(if: (history:) contains "inter13")[The Rogue Salmon isn't nearly as busy as it was the other day on your way to work. This](else:)[The Rogue Salmon] isn't a place that you would have typically planned to spend your day off. (if: (history:) contains "afterWork32")[Seb suggested to pick something nice, and you almost regret telling him about this place. ] You walk away from your car and into the restaurant right behind Sebastian. Just before the door swings closed and seals you off from the busy street, you hear a concerning creak originating from what is probably your car. You turn to see the valet driver struggling mightily to adjust the seat. It's stuck into place after several years of immobility and accumulated crumbs. There's a frustrated honk from outside your field of vision, and he gives up, slowly inching out of view while struggling to comfortably reach the pedals. You know it's strange, but you like to lounge while you drive. (if: (history:) contains "inter13")[You feel sorry for the valet staff, who have to deal with frustrated drivers not understanding the degrees of discomfort accompanying optimal valet efficiency. The blank face of the driver from a few days prior briefly reappears in your mind.] There is already someone being seated by the single hostess when you and Seb arrive, but she quickly returns to her post and apologizes for the wait. Normally, you wouldn't have even considered that to be a wait at all, so you readily dismiss her concern. Seb breathes quickly out through his nose. "Booth or table?" she asks, first to Sebastian based on his proximity, then to you when Seb gestures unknowingly. (link: "Booth.")[(set: $satAt to "booth")(goto: "dayOff2")] (link: "Table.")[(set: $satAt to "table")(goto: "dayOff2")] (link: "Either.")[(set: $satAt to "either")(goto: "dayOff2")]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(Set: $timeMinute += 3)You decide to give it a few minutes. Surely when this sort of thing happens, they try to clear a path as fast as possible. A tow truck would be here any minute now. More cops are going to show up, and help redirect traffic through the small remaining window through the intersection. You wait. The officer gets out of her car and walks over to the responsible parties, taking care not to step on any more shards of glass than necessary. The pair of mismatched middle-aged men seem to be running out of patience with one another. One of them, wearing a red hat and presumably the owner of the emerald-green truck, looks relieved when the policewoman approaches. You exhale. The light turns green. Then red again. The clock reads $timeHour:$timeMinute. [[Keep waiting.->intro4]] [[Make that U-turn.->intro3]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(Set: $timeMinute += 2)(if: (history:)'s last is "intro4")[You've had enough. (if: $timeHour >= 9)[You're already late. But y](else:)[Y]ou might not make it to work at all if you keep waiting for this mess to blow over. (if: ($timeHour is 8) and ($timeMinute <= 55))[But if you leave right now, you might have a chance at salvaging your appearances when you get there.]](else:)[You don't have time for this. As much of a pain as it's going to be to turn around on this street, it's your only chance of getting to work (if: ($timeHour is 8) and ($timeMinute <= 55))[on time](else:)[at all].] You pull forward at an angle, careful not to get too close to the wreck. It turns out to be more difficult than you thought. However, the car behind you concedes some space, allowing you to make the turn. As you start to rotate the wheel, (if: (history:) contains "intro2")[Red-hat](else:)[The red-hat-wearing owner of the immobilized truck] makes eye contact with you and you see something fiery and familiar. For the first time in at least a year, you're reminded of your dad. You finish the turn, and are successfully headed the direction perfectly opposite to your destination: the Home Hobby framing center. Right now, you are facing **south** at the intersection of **26th** and **Harbor**. Home Hobby is right on the intersection of **23rd** and **Harbor**. You definitely don't want to head further south. [[Turn west on 26th.->inter1]] [[Turn east on 26th.->inter0]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(Set: $timeMinute += 3)You sit still for a while longer. There are now three cars behind you, making it trickier to effectively turn around. Your car is small, but if you want to give the accident a decent buffer zone, it would take some awkward angled reversing to pull it off. Too much trouble. The last car in line probably can't see what's going on, and you fleetingly feel bad for them. The cop has a pad of paper in her flat palm and is calmly scribbling something down. One of the drivers is narrating his version of the events. He's starting to go bald in the front and is wearing a muddy-looking silver tie. There are bits of metal sticking out of the front of his car that he is gesturing towards. The one in the red hat is shaking his head angrily, but every time he tries to speak up he is shushed by the officer. Maybe this is going to take a while. The clock reads $timeHour:$timeMinute. [[Wait some more.->intro5]] [[Start turning around.->intro3]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(Set: $timeMinute += 3)You wait some more. It seems that you're in it now for the long haul, and if you've already wasted this much time, what's it going to hurt to allow for a few more minutes? Now, it's red-hat's turn to talk. He's much more animated than silver-tie, waving his arms around and pointing in directions when necessary and sometimes when it's not. The cop writes a few things down, and red-hat continues. You can imagine his brow sweating and his heart racing, the hysterics rising until he gets a few facts mixed up in his head. You've seen it before. Silver-tie meanwhile stands calmly, occasionally glancing at the officer knowingly. He waits, and the officer never returns his gaze. The clock reads $timeHour:$timeMinute. [[Be patient.->intro6]] [[Give up.->intro3]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(Set: $timeMinute += 3)You sigh and wring your hands on the steering wheel. You're starting to feel less like it's your choice to wait. You wonder if it would even be possible at all for you to leave, or if the cars behind you are keeping you boxed in until either everything ahead is clear or they all give up, too. Red-hat is continuing to rant, and it seems that this is at least the third repeat of his story. You recognize some of his gestures: to the car, to silver-tie, to the truck, to the other side of the intersection where you now sit. Yet still the policewoman stands there, pretending to write down more details, nodding her head and shrugging her shoulders. Is red-hat floundering, knowing he is at fault? Is the cop thinking about where else she could be? Is anyone thinking about the people late for work and stuck in traffic? The clock reads $timeHour:$timeMinute. [[Sit still.->intro7]] [[Escape.->intro3]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(if: $lightColor is "red")[(Set: $lightColor to "green")](else:)[(Set: $lightColor to "red")](if: (history:)'s last is "intro6")[(Set: $timeMinute += 3)Well, you're off in the deep end now. You're going to be late, and there's nothing else to it. Three strikes and you're coming in on Saturday, Jeremy said. So, it looks like you have a one-day weekend to look forward to now. A tow truck arrives at last, pulling up to red-hat's monstrosity without distinct purpose. The owner begins to protest, and you can imagine what he says: "My car's fine. I can drive it my damn self." They start to argue. The cop doesn't look interested in de-escalating.](else:)[(Set: $timeMinute += 2)Red-hat continues to protest against his car being towed. (if: (history:)'s last is "intro6")[Despite the inevitability of it being dragged off regardless of the owner's preference, he stands his ground and fumes. ]Silver-tie stands there silently, before (either: "leaning against his car", "starting to smoke a cigarette", "pulling out his cell phone", "tapping his foot against a piece of glass with no particular rhythm"). It really doesn't look like it's going to clear up any time soon. The car behind you (either: "honks in frustration", "turns and leaves", "pulls up dangerously close", "switches off their engine"). The light turns $lightColor.](display: "adjustTime") The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. (if: $timeHour is 9 and $timeMinute >= 15)[[[Stay.->intro16]]](else:)[[[Stay.->intro7]]] [[Go.->intro3]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 1)(display: "adjustTime")(if: not ((history:) contains "inter1"))[(if: (history:)'s last is "intro3")[You turn right onto 26th Street, happy just to be moving again. Unfortunately, though, you aren't moving for long. The stoplight turns red just as you pull up to it, and in your rush to get away from the accident and head towards work you are forced to screech to a halt. A young woman was just stepping onto the crosswalk at this time, and](else:)[26th Street remains surprisingly fast-moving, and you build up some momentum as you drive down the block. The light at the upcoming intersection turns yellow, but at your current speed you figure that it would be safer to continue through. A young woman, however, begins to step out onto the crosswalk and you are forced to screech to a halt. She jolts, and] her chagrin becomes evident as she hesitates, glaring at you and clutching her coffee cup tighter. She gets over herself and huffs across the street. You're pretty sure that you were taught as a kid to look both ways *before* you crossed the street. Maybe that wasn't so common, though, growing up in a city, where your every move is governed by lights and colors and sounds and numbers on a clock. Where people don't joyride tractors down dirt roads for fun. ](else:)[In trying to navigate the maze of intersections and angry drivers, you seem to have retraced your steps. ]You're currently at the intersection of **26th** and **Martin**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "intro3" or (history:)'s last is "inter2")[west](elseif: (history:)'s last is "inter3")[east](else:)[south]. You definitely don't want to end up further south. It was easy getting to this intersection, but it seems like there is some traffic congestion building up nearby, but it's hard to tell whether it's on 26th or Martin. The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. (if: (history:)'s last is not "inter2" and (history:)'s last is not "intro3")[[[Go east on 26th.->inter2]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter3")[[[Go west on 26th.->inter3]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter4")[[[Go north on Martin.->inter4]]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 1)(display: "adjustTime")(if: not((history:) contains "inter2"))[You've somehow ended up back near where you began. As you roll steadily through the intersection, you peek briefly out the window to check on the status of the accident. It's still there, as are the three figures engaged in deep conversation about it. There's not as much anger as you would have expected at this point. Right as the accident begins to leave your view, you see the car stopped adjacent to the accident, having made the same mistake as you, albeit later and with more warning, taking a quick and purposeful U-turn to head back towards 26th. ]You're currently at the intersection of **26th** and **Harbor**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "inter1")[east](else:)[west]. You definitely don't want to end up further south, and to the north is (if: not((history:)'s last is "intro17"))[the accident, and ]the intersection that you were stuck at earlier. The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. (if: (history:)'s last is "inter1")[[[Go east on 26th.->inter0]]](else:)[[[Go west on 26th.->inter1]]]

(if: $timeMinute >59)[(Set: $timeHour += 1)(Set: $timeMinute to ($timeMinute % 3))](if: $timeHour > 8 and $isLate is false and $timeMinute > 0)[(Set: $isLate to true)]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 1)(display: "adjustTime")(if: ((history:)'s last is "inter1" and not ((history:) contains "inter3")))[You decide to stay on 26th for the time being rolling west towards Broadmoor, despite Martin being the most direct route to your destination. You just have a bad feeling about it. Then again, you've never had a talent for intuiting your way through traffic. As before, the stoplight at the intersection turns red. This time, though, the driver in front of you has to make eye contact with the sassy pedestrian at the crossing instead of you. The bumper you find yourself staring at instead is the bumper of a boring SUV, not dissimilar from your own. It's brown, though, a Chevrolet something-or-other with the model name long since worn off. All you can see in the mirrors is a wad of fuzzy hair. They stop with plenty of room for the pedestrian. The driver waves and smiles. Neither gesture is reciprocated by the middle-aged woman with a scarf now halfway on the crosswalk. ](if: (history:) contains "inter3")[You somehow messed up badly enough to return here. ]You're currently at the intersection of **26th** and **Broadmoor**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "inter1")[west](else:)[south]. You definitely don't want to end up further south, and continuing west will be take you too far out of the way. It looks like (if: (history:)'s last is "inter1")[north](else:)[east] is the only option. The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. (if: (history:)'s last is "inter1")[[[Go north on Broadmoor.->inter5]]](else:)[[[Go east on 26th.->inter1]]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 3)(display: "adjustTime")(if: not ((history:) contains "inter4"))[(if: (history:)'s last is "inter1")[You turn north onto Martin, and it turns out traffic is bad enough that you come to a complete stop shortly after making the turn onto the street. It's](else:)[As you try to progress towards the next intersection, you realize that you might have made a mistake in moving towards Martin Street. Traffic is] dense in both directions, and your paranoia builds as a car slides abruptly to a stop in response to the stoplight in the other direction. They are intruding slightly into your lane, and are aligned such that if you wanted, you could roll down the window and easily place your hand flat against the glass over the driver's window. You don't, but you could. And if you did, the driver, who is a nicely-dressed African American about your age, would startle and glare at you like an alien who dared to attempt to enter his carefully constructed microcosm of processed air and sound. You sit through one more green light before you're able to continue. It's uncertain whether it would be faster for you to try and find a new route or not. ]You're currently at the intersection of **24th** and **Martin**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "inter1")[north](elseif:(history:)'s last is "inter5")[east] (else:)[south]. (if: not((history:)'s last is "intro17"))[To the immediate east is the accident, still in the process of being cleaned up.] The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. (if: (history:)'s last is not "inter7")[[[Go north on Martin.->inter7]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter5")[[[Go west on 24th.->inter5]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter1")[[[Go south on Martin.->inter1]]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 1)(display: "adjustTime")(if: not ((history:) contains "inter5"))[You turn onto Broadmoor(if: (history:)'s last is "inter3")[, since it's your only practical option]. To your relief, the traffic is moving along at a reasonable pace, at least for now. However, you still have several blocks to go. You finally don't have to wait on a red light, though. But that also means that you don't have much time to think about whether you want to continue on Broadmoor or not. You wonder if you would have been at work by now if it wasn't for the accident. The thought occurs to you, and you can't help but feel a tad guilty for blaming anything on the drivers. After all, they are in a worse off position than you are. They are certainly going to be late for work, too. But then you realize that the driver in the red hat doesn't care that you're running late, and never would. ]You're currently at the intersection of **25th** and **Broadmoor**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "inter3")[north](elseif:(history:)'s last is "inter4")[west] (else:)[south]. Continuing west will be take you too far out of the way. The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. (if: (history:)'s last is not "inter6")[[[Go north on Broadmoor.->inter6]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter4")[[[Go east on 25th.->inter4]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter3")[[[Go south on Broadmoor.->inter3]]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 2)(display: "adjustTime")(if: not((history:) contains "inter0"))[(if: (history:)'s last is "intro3")[You turn left onto 26th Street, happy just to be moving again. Unfortunately, traffic doesn't seem to be very forgiving.](else:)[Traffic continues to be unforgiving.] You can see that the light at the intersection is green, but your lane continues to sit in increasingly frustrated stasis. Someone up ahead must be trying to make a left turn, and though you notice several gaps in traffic, they aren't brave enough to attempt to make it through. That is until the light ages to a brief yellow, the other lane slows in response, and the car carefully turns left, leaving the rest of us to deal with the red-faced sentry. As it drives past, you glare into the cab of the offending vehicle. The car is small, silver, and probably a decade old. The pilot is an old man that should by all rights have someone to drive him around. His reaction time has slowed, and his vision has degraded to follow suit. It's not new, inexperienced drivers that make you nervous. ](else:)[You return to the familiar intersection, three cars behind the already-red light, hoping that there won't be anyone else needing to struggle through the process of making a left turn, slowing you down and reminding you that you aren't such a terrible driver after all. To your dismay, though, the light up ahead turns green and once again the lane doesn't budge. There should definitely be more turning lanes around here. You sigh, beyond the point of thinking that your bad luck might be funny. Right before the light transitions, the offending vehicle lurches left, screeches to a halt, and then does the same, again. Eventually they make it through, but the light is now solidly red. You reconsider your stance about old drivers. New ones are just as bad. ]You're currently at the intersection of **26th** and **Garfield**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "inter12")[west](elseif:(history:)'s last is "inter11")[south] (else:)[east]. The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. (if: (history:)'s last is not "inter11")[[[Go north on Garfield.->inter11]]] (if: (history:)'s last is not "inter12")[[[Go east on 26th.->inter12]]] (if: (history:)'s last is not "inter2")[[[Go west on 26th.->inter2]]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 1)(display: "adjustTime")(if: not ((history:) contains "inter6"))[You glide right up to the next Broadmoor intersection, near which is a fast food place that serves breakfast. Your stomach makes you question your better judgement as soon as you seen the maroon and orange sign emerge from behind a neighboring building. [[Stop for breakfast.->inter19]] [[Keep heading for work.->inter20]] ](else:)[You're currently at the intersection of **24th** and **Broadmoor**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "inter5")[north](elseif:(history:)'s last is "inter7")[west] (else:)[south]. Continuing west will be take you too far out of the way. The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. (display: "inter20")]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 3)(display: "adjustTime")(if: not((history:) contains "inter8"))[(if: (history:)'s last is "inter19" or "inter6" or "inter20")[You keep travelling down Broadmoor, the inviting glow of the restaurant sign quickly growing smaller in your rearview window. (if: not $hasBrunch)[You regret not stopping for breakfast, Home Hobby be damned.](else:)[The paper bag in your passenger seat, like all of its friends and family before it, is going on an adventure far from home.]] Traffic has slowed to almost a complete standstill, and you kick yourself for forgetting how bad this intersection can get. For some reason, the stoplight at 23rd and Broadmoor always seems to be timed so as to cause an immense pileup of traffic, no matter what time of day or night. Currently, the turn signal that you are forced to wait on only turns green long enough to let one, maybe two, cars through at a time. And of course, just when it's almost your turn, the car in front of you neglects to pay attention until the light is already yellow. To make it even worse, they start moving just in time to disallow you from being justified in laying on your horn to get them going. You swear that it would be less trouble to get a goat to move where they are supposed to than some of these people who supposedly had to pass a test in order to obtain their license. ]You're currently at the intersection of **23rd** and **Broadmoor**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "inter6")[north](else:)[west]. There's no need to overshoot your destination, so you shouldn't go further north or west. The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. (if: (history:)'s last is not "inter15")[[[Go east on 23rd.->inter15]]] (if: (history:)'s last is not "inter6")[[[Go south on Broadmoor.->inter6]]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 1)(if: not ((history:) contains "inter7"))[On your way down the next block, you pass your favorite bar in town, which is close enough to work to be a dangerous temptation on your drive home. It's called The Tusk, which you imagine is an attempt to make it sound old, or at least old-fashioned. Truth is, it only opened just last year. The owner is nice, though, and once or twice he's given you a free refill in exchange for an open ear on a bad day. As you drive past, you wonder if he's going to be working tonight. After work, you may need to be the one narrating your woes. (if: (history:)'s last is "inter4")[Even though traffic on Martin is still pretty heavy, the light ahead of you stays green and everything starts moving steadily again. Right as you're about to make it through, someone heading west on 24th flies through the intersection, turning at the last moment in front of you onto Martin. So much for yielding when turning right on red. Not only did the red, obnoxiously large truck prevent you from making it through this light, but their forceful turn leaves the back half of the truck bed sticking out beyond the crosswalk and into the intersection, prevented from moving out of the way by the red light the next block down. You stare after it and seethe. The windows of the vehicle are darkly tinted. You resent their lack of hesitation or regret. Someone driving a truck like that around these downtown streets has to be incapable of either. There is a bright red "COUNTRY STRONG" bumper sticker crookedly placed above the license plate, glowering with an intensity that surpasses the stop light does a better job of preventing you from inching closer. ]]You're currently at the intersection of **24th** and **Martin**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "inter4")[(set: $timeMinute += 2)north](elseif:(history:)'s last is "inter10")[west](elseif:(history:)'s last is "inter15")[south](else:)[east].(display: "adjustTime") The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. (if: (history:)'s last is not "inter15")[[[Go north on Martin.->inter15]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter10")[[[Go east on 24th.->inter10]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter6" and (history:)'s last is not "inter20")[[[Go west on 24th.->inter6]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter4")[[[Go south on Martin.->inter4]]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 1)(display: "adjustTime")At long last, you make it to Home Hobby. It's a large building, taking up about half of a block right on the corner of 23rd and Harbor. The sign above the door is large, occupying a swath of the wall that, for any of these other buildings, would be peppered with windows instead. The font is round and the color is orange. It's hard to miss. There's a small parking area down a narrow alley that you slip into, conscious of the disproportionate parking space for the size of the store. The spot that you normally park in next to the garbage can is available. So, you claim it with confidence. (if: $isLate)[You hurriedly jump out of the car(if: $hasBrunch)[, grabbing and almost completely spilling your brunch as you do so]. You wish you had the option of going through the back door, but unfortunately only the manager has a key, and running around banging on doors won't exactly make it easy for you to slip inside unnoticed. So, you power walk back down the alley, across the sidewalk, and up to the front door. You carefully swing it open and immediately set your sights on the framing area at the back of the store. As you unavoidably walk past the point of sale, Andrea waves at you, and her "hey, Nina!" startles you from your determination. [[Stop and say hello.->intro9]] [[Dismiss her and proceed to the frame center.->intro10]]](else:)[You relax somewhat when you notice that you made it just before nine, and you exhale for what feels like the first time in hours. You remove the key from the ignition. You grip the door handle tightly, and prepare to straighten your clothes. Before you can exit the vehicle, you feel a harsh vibration in your pocket. It's strange for you to be receiving phone calls this early. Now that you think about it, it's strange for you to get phone calls at all. You assume it's some spam call, but something motivates you to pull your phone out of your pocket and check anyway. You don't recognize the number, but the area code strikes you as familiar. It's from home. [[Answer it.->phoneCall1]] [[Ignore it.->intro11]]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 1)(display: "adjustTime")(if: not ((history:) contains "inter10"))[(if: (history:)'s last is "intro17")[Finally, you start moving again. It feels like you had been holding your breath underwater, and that you just allowed yourself to bob to the surface. You cautiously continue up Harbor Street](else:)[You make your way down 24th street], and hit a red light right as it dawns on you that you're only a block away from Home Hobby. You glance anxiously between the stop light and the dashboard clock, each one seeming to pulse tauntingly. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a brownish blur hurry from underneath a stand full of tourist magazines and end up under a nearby bench. Its alert eyes seem to glow: sunken into the furry blob of the rest of its body. The wild-eyed stray looks just like your cat, Matata, but slightly crazier. It had probably been wronged. Its coat isn't matted and its belly is full. And still, it's wild. It's strange to see a stray this deep downtown. Maybe it snuck out of an apartment window, or a car. ]You're currently at the intersection of **24th** and **Harbor**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "inter13")[west](elseif: (history:)'s last is "intro17")[north](else:)[east]. (if: not ((history:)'s last is "intro17"))[To your south now is the accident, an intersection frozen in time. To the north, your destination.] The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. [[Go north on Harbor.->intro8]] (if: (history:)'s last is not "inter13")[[[Go east on 24th.->inter13]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter7")[[[Go west on 24th.->inter7]]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 2)(display: "adjustTime")(if: not((history:) contains "inter11"))[(if: not((history:) contains "inter13"))[Traffic on Garfield (if: (history:)'s last is "inter0")[continues to be](else:)[is] quite slow, but you can't see far enough ahead to determine why, or if it has a chance of clearing up at all. (if: (history:)'s last is "inter14")[The traffic is bad enough that it's slowing your progress on 25th.] ]The light turns red, and everything stops. You're naive enough to be hopeful that you will be through it soon. In a moment of boredom, you look around. There's a woman sitting on a bench directly to your right. She's wearing a shabby olive jacket despite the nice weather, along with a once-pink stocking cap. She has a paper sign with something scribbled on it, but since she seems to be trying to aim it so that it's visible to both drivers on the road as well as passersby, you can't read it at all. Someone stops and gives her a dollar, immediately continuing to walk once their good deed has been done. She nods sadly, not seeming to say a word. You're grateful that she doesn't try to make eye contact with you, despite that you're within a few strides' reach. A few other homeless that you have encountered have been forceful to the point of knocking on your rolled-up window, questioning your sense of isolation. This woman, adjusting to fit the dollar bill in a hidden pocket, does no such thing. She isn't very old, and doesn't look harrowed by drug use. She looks like she could have been your banker, or your cashier, or your waitress, albeit somewhat dirtier. ](else:)[After some wandering, you once again end up two cars behind this same red light(if: (history:)'s last is "inter14")[, this time from a different angle]. For a moment, you believe that the car in front of you is one and the same as before. As soon as you realize it isn't, you lose interest. The homeless woman is occupying the same bench. However, she is no longer sitting. She has slid down to lay face-up on the bench, her knees bent over the edge and her feet flat on the concrete. Her sign is laying on the ground underneath, made even more indecipherable by the shadow of its owner. She's staring at the sky. Several pedestrians walk past without paying her any notice at all. So much more than before, you want to roll down the window and empty your pockets to her. Then, the light turns green. ]You're currently at the intersection of **25th** and **Garfield**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "inter14")[west](elseif:(history:)'s last is "inter0")[north] (else:)[south]. (if: not((history:)'s last is "intro17"))[To your west now is the accident, an intersection that seems to be perpetually frozen in time.] The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. (if: (history:)'s last is not "inter13")[[[Go north on Garfield.->inter13]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter14")[[[Go east on 25th.->inter14]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter0")[[[Go south on Garfield.->inter0]]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 1)(display: "adjustTime")(display: "parkStreet")Rather than be forced to drive further south, you decide that you should (if: (history:)'s last is "inter0")[turn around to face west on 26th and try this all again. Luckily there's an empty lot on the east side of Park, and you drive straight across, pull a wide, deliberate u-turn, and pull back out near the intersection. Traffic is low, so you don't have to wait long to wiggle your way up to the red light.](else:)[finally give up on Park Street and get back onto 26th. You wiggle your way up to the turning lane complete with its own signal light.] You slap on your left blinker. Being near the left side of the road makes you almost want to make the turn when it's clear, despite the red light angrily gazing at you from atop its Tolkeinesque tower. You don't make the turn. But you want to. Then the light blinks. You're currently at the intersection of **26th** and **Park**, facing south. Going further east would be silly, and Park is a one-way street. The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. [[Turn east on 26th.->inter0]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 2)(display: "adjustTime")(if: not((history:) contains "inter13"))[(if: (history:) contains "inter11")[You immediately see what was causing traffic to back up all the way down Garfield. ]It seems that the Rogue Salmon, a pretty nice restaurant that you have never eaten at before, is hosting some sort of event. A family reunion breakfast, maybe. Because if it, though, almost every third car is stopping for the valet service. You had always been annoyed that there was no room off of the street for the cars to pull aside into, so that the owners could step out of their cars, transfer keys and whatnot without holding up traffic. Normally, this was only a short-term problem because the valet drivers were pretty quick and considerate. But today the amount of people stopping in the road to get brunch was causing the traffic to back up for several blocks. (if: (history:)'s last is "inter16")[Luckily for you, the worst of the traffic is headed in the other direction. It's still pretty slow heading south, regardless. ]](else:)[You're not entirely surprised to see that the Rogue Salmon still has people crowding in for the valet service, slowing down traffic immensely. You wonder what kind of family would not only have this many people show up, but monopolize the valet service like this. You first suppose it has to be a rich family, but immediately dismiss the thought on the grounds that such a reunion would probably be a small, routine undertaking. This has to be a family from out of town. Probably a long drive. Some of them flew in. Most of them have never been to a restaurant this nice, or used a valet. It's a special occasion. All the cousins are here. ](if: (history:)'s last is "inter17")[Traversing this intersection while on 24th Street proves to be difficult. You are forced to remain immobile for several minutes, because the traffic headed both ways is severe. The north bound traffic is worse, however, because of the growing line of cars that the diligent valet service is frantically trying to attend to. You notice one attendant in particular who seems to be struggling to maintain his polite, subservient facade. As soon as the customer turns her elderly back, his smile fades, his eyes turn blank, and he hops into the car, hurriedly trying to figure out how to get it going without bothering to adjust the mirrors or seat for comfort and safety. ]You're currently at the intersection of **24th** and **Garfield**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "inter11")[north](elseif:(history:)'s last is "inter10")[east](elseif:(history:)'s last is "inter16")[south](else:)[west]. The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. (if: (history:)'s last is not "inter16")[[[Go north on Garfield.->inter16]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter10")[[[Go west on 24th.->inter10]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter17")[[[Go east on 24th.->inter17]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter11")[[[Go south on Garfield.->inter11]]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 1)(display: "adjustTime")(display: "parkStreet")(if: not((history:) contains "inter14"))[Directly in front of you now is one of the omnipresent buses that drive around in annoying but predictable circles through the interlocking web of inner-city streets. It's big and green, and you notice yourself driving unsafely close to it in your rush to get to work. The size of the bus means that it would undoubtedly "win" any collision. If the driver wanted, they could charge straight through any red light and every car would stop for them. Seeing it drive forward so confidently makes you wonder how many times they've considered abusing that power. Especially on days like today, when the bus stays empty for whole laps of the route and there is no one inside to force them to consider the consequences.] You're currently at the intersection of **25th** and **Park**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "inter11")[east](else:)[south]. Going further east would be silly, and Park is a one-way street. The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. [[Go south on Park.->inter12]] (if: (history:)'s last is not "inter11")[[[Go west on 25th.->inter11]]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 3)(display: "adjustTime") (if: not ((history:) contains "inter15"))[(if: (history:)'s last is "inter7")[After an agonizing few minutes, you are able to squeeze through the intersection and settle uncomfortably close to the bumper of the truck that you now find yourself wishing gratuitous misfortunes upon. You're now close enough to see the "COUNTRY STRONG" bumper sticker in its yellowing, peeling glory. It's right next to another sticker: a white, ghostly deer head silhouette, also peeling and cracked. The gleaming, untouched paint of the truck seems to swallow the stickers, and the empty bed, and the tinted windows, and the person inside. ]Your car settles, then inches forward. Settles again. Rolls a few feet. Settles. Even though there's not much in your power to change, your heart races when you glance at the clock and you curse yourself for your negligence in running so late. It's not the first time it's happened, but it always makes you anxious, and above all, guilty. Even if you pretend like you don't give a shit once you get there. ]You're currently at the intersection of **23rd** and **Martin**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "inter7")[north](else:)[east]. There's no need to overshoot your destination, so you shouldn't go further north. Your goal is close: it's just a little to the east. The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. [[Go east on 23rd.->intro8]] (if: (history:)'s last is not "inter8")[[[Go west on 23rd.->inter8]] ](if: (history:)'s last is not "inter7")[[[Go south on Martin.->inter7]]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 2)(display: "adjustTime")(if: not((history:) contains "inter16"))[(if: (history:)'s last is "inter12")[You finally make it beyond the valet nightmare, somehow. However, traffic seems to be only marginally better.](else:)[Traffic suddenly worsens.] The stoplight ahead of you is notoriously long and unforgiving. It had already been red for at least a few moments when you had to stop, but you still feel like you got there at just the wrong time. You sit, and sit, and continue to sit, and as you do so, your eyes begin to wander around the cab of your own car. Inside the console are half a dozen wadded up receipts, that you imagine are mostly from various fast food restaurants. Seeing them, you think about breakfast. Under the receipts, you know, is your spare mailbox key that you have no intention of ever using. You sigh, noticing the large scratch in the passenger side dash from when you gave one of your old co-workers a ride from a bar that you don't go to any more on the off chance of seeing him there. It will be there forever. The main source of color in the car is a stuffed unicorn that your mom gave you the last time that you saw her. It's an old, dingy purple, but you like being able to see it every day. Many a passenger has made fun of you for it, but eventually dismiss it as a cute girly thing. You couldn't really care less. Traffic starts to move, which you only notice on account of the car behind you issuing a harsh honk when you don't immediately respond to the movement of the vehicle in front of you. ]You're currently at the intersection of **23rd** and **Garfield**, facing north. There's no need to overshoot your destination, so you shouldn't go further north. The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. [[Go east on 23rd.->inter18]] [[Go west on 23rd.->intro8]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 1)(display: "adjustTime")(display: "parkStreet") You're currently at the intersection of **24th** and **Park**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "inter13")[east](else:)[south]. Going further east would be silly, and Park is a one-way street. The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. [[Go south on Park.->inter14]] (if: (history:)'s last is not "inter13")[[[Go west on 24rd.->inter13]]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 1)(display: "adjustTime")(display: "parkStreet") You're currently at the intersection of **23rd** and **Park**, facing east. Going further east would be silly, and Park is a one-way street. The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. [[Go south on Park.->inter17]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(set: $timeMinute += 5)(set: $hasBrunch to true)(display: "adjustTime")For some reason unbeknownst perhaps even to you, you find yourself at the drive-through window of a restaurant that you know all-too-well. (if: $isLate)[You're already late, so you suppose there's no harm in picking up something to eat.](else:)[You aren't late yet, but you have low hopes for making it to work on time, regardless.] The winds of fate haven't blown in your favor so far today, but you figure you can embrace the chaos. There's a tiny car in front of you. The driver yells their order at the speaker as if they were alone in the woods, and lost, and desperate. They order one burger, two orders of fries, a coffee, and you hear it all. You order a sausage-and-cheese breakfast sandwich and an orange juice, knowing that this place uses the kind with pulp. It's the only kind you drink since you left home. Sebastian couldn't stand the stuff. Your order is ready shortly, and you set it aside, fully expecting to wait until your lunch break to enjoy it. You begin to leave the restaurant, pulling out into the intersection of **24th** and **Broadmoor**, facing east. (display: "inter20")

(display: "NinaCarImage")(if: (history:)'s last is "inter6" and not((passage:)'s name is "inter19"))[You better not push it. (if: $timeHour < 9)[Chances are that you're already going to be](else:)[You're already] late for work, but if you don't get sidetracked, you can at least maintain plausible deniability. Now it's got you thinking about how tasty those sandwiches are, though. You may end up regretting starting your day off hungry. You're currently at the intersection of **24th** and **Broadmoor**, facing (if: (history:)'s last is "inter5")[north](elseif:(history:)'s last is "inter7")[west] (else:)[south]. Continuing west will be take you too far out of the way. The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. (if: not((history:)'s 2ndlast is "inter8"))[[[Go north on Broadmoor.->inter8]] ](if: not((history:)'s 2ndlast is "inter7"))[[[Go east on 24th.->inter7]] ](if: not((history:)'s 2ndlast is "inter5"))[[[Go south on Broadmoor.->inter5]]]](else:)[[[Go north on Broadmoor.->inter8]] [[Go east on 24th.->inter7]] [[Go south on Broadmoor.->inter5]]]

(display: "NinaHappyImage")(display: "AndreaImage")(set: $timeMinute += 2)(display: "adjustTime")You take a moment to greet Andrea. She's always so friendly to you that you would feel bad for not returning the favor. "Good morning," you say, making an attempt at enthusiasm and warmth. You walk up to the point of sale. As far as you can tell, there are few, if any, customers that require either of your attention. Andrea flips a stray lock, her hair otherwise perfectly tamed, over her shoulder and starts to rub the side of her neck. She has a tendency to nervously adjust her posture and appearance when people strike up casual conversation with her. You have always wondered why, since otherwise she seems completely natural. Not to mention that she is always flawlessly assembled compared to you, with hardly a hair or smudge of pale foundation out of place. "Cutting it kind of close, huh?" she asks. "Yeah," you reply, and suddenly you feel self-conscious. "Traffic?" "Traffic," you nod. "How did you manage to get around it?" "I came from the other direction. I live in Chesterfield, remember?" You don't remember, but you adjust your facial expression as if to say, "oh, yes, of course." "Jeremy has been complaining about it all morning. That's how I know about the accident," Andrea predictively replies to a question that you didn't ask, but wish that you had thought to. "Ah," you say, "yeah, it was a pretty bad." Andrea nods. "Well," she pleasantly intones, exhaling, "I guess we should get to work. I'll see you around." "Sure will," you say, taking a few steps sideways before turning. As you start to walk to your section of the store, you can't help but dwell on how you pronounced "will" more like "whale," and you wonder if she noticed. On your way to the employee computer in the back, you pass by Jeremy, who is briskly walking down the scrapbooking aisle as if something at the end requires immediate attention. You're glad that he has something to distract him from your (if: $timeHour is 8)[near-]lateness. You walk through the door to the back room, and before it swings fully closed, your phone once again starts to vibrate. It seems to resonate violently in the confined space of the hard, white-walled room. [[Answer it.->phoneCall1]] [[Ignore it and clock in to work.->intro10]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(set: $clockedIn to true)(if: not((history:)'s last is "intro9"))[You would like to say hi, but you just don't have time. "Hey sorry Andrea but I'm running late talk to you later, okay," you spout as you walk past her, heading straight to the employee computer at the back of the store. You lean](else:)[You make your way to the computer desk, leaning] over the aging desktop with the time clocking software that Home Hobby uses to keep track of its employees.(if: $hasBrunch)[ You place the bag containing your breakfast securely on the desk, out of the way. You take a swig of your orange juice before setting it down, too.] With a few carefully practiced taps on the keyboard, you finalize the punch at $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. (if: $isLate and $timeMinute < 5)[Technically, you're late. But to your relief, you aren't late enough to get that third mark on your account.](elseif: not $isLate)[If you believed in providence, you would thank it for somehow allowing you to get to work on time.](else:)[You can’t reasonably be upset at how late you are, despite the impulse to do so. Traffic can’t be blamed, so much as your poor navigation and lack of good judgement.] Well, you suppose that it's time to get to work. The frame workshop is connected to the employee lounge area with the computer by a loosely swinging door, so you take a few steps, swing the windowed door aside, and venture over to the log book sitting on a table nearby to see if there are any orders waiting for you. You are usually the only one who remembers to write orders in, but it never hurts to check. It's an element of habit. All you see listed is the fancy stained oak frame that has been on hold for pickup for six months, as well as a familiar thin painted frame order for Mrs. Everton that would look gaudy around anything other than her paintings. That, and a few easy photos that need to be set in prefabricated frames. In other words, there's nothing new. Closing the thick book, you walk past shelves and bins containing retired samples and half-finished or otherwise cancelled orders on your way to the main workbench, on which are the already-cut sections of wood for Mrs. Everton's frame that you left there for yourself yesterday. You obtain a pair of gloves from the dispenser to the right of the work space. They are comfortable and familiar. Picking a piece up and inspecting it for imperfections, your phone buzzes urgently in your pocket. Again. [[Answer it.->phoneCall1]] (if: not $isLate)[[[Ignore it once again.->intro12]]](else:)[[[Ignore it.->intro12]]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(set: $timeMinute += 2)(display: "adjustTime")(if: (history:)'s last is "intro11")["Hey, sorry Andrea, but I need to take this," you say, pulling your phone fully out of your pocket and unlocking it to answer. Andrea raises an eyebrow at you, taking a call at work. But with the same number calling you twice in a row, you feel obligated to at least see what it's about. You take a few steps towards the door, trying to avoid Andrea's line of sight.](elseif: (history:)'s last is "intro8")[Curious, you answer the phone. You recognize that you're running late, but the phone call is strange, and unexpected, and you don't want to be forced to speculate about the source until you can check your messages at lunch.](elseif: (history:)'s last is "intro9")[You angrily retrieve your phone from your pocket. You wish that you could just turn it off and get to work, especially since you are so close. But if you're going to answer it you should at least do it off of the clock, and they are being just persistent enough for you to feel somehow obligated. Chances are you'll be able to tell them to screw off and hang up.](elseif: ((history:)'s last is "intro10" and not((passage:)'s name is "intro12")))[You pull your phone angrily out of your pocket and set it on the hard wooden work surface. You hesitate for a moment, letting it buzz one more time before deciding to answer it and tell them you're busy and that they should bother someone else.](if: not((passage:)'s name is "intro12"))[ You find yourself looking around to make sure Jeremy doesn't see you. He has a tendency to act like it's much more hectic than it is, and you don't want to give him another reason to be angry.] You raise the phone to your face, adjusting its warm surface to align with your cheek. "Hello?" A breathy, deep voice responds a beat later than you would have expected from a casual conversation. "Hey, Nina," he begins, and you recognize him before he is finished. That voice, permanently weakened by your foot meeting his throat in a fit of childhood rage long since forgotten, is unmistakable. "It's Seb," he says, as if he needed to. [[Tell him you are at work and can't talk right now.->phoneCall2]] [[Ask why he's calling.->phoneCall3]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")Whoever it is, you don't have time for them. So, you let the phone ring until it finally falls into a negligent stillness. You figure that if it's important, they will leave a message that you can listen to over your lunch break. You pop open the car door somewhat forcefully, necessitated by the aging mechanisms determined to hold it closed. With the car taken care of, you scan the back wall of the building, smoothing out your shirt as you do so. Unfortunately, the back door is sealed shut as per protocol. So you begin a brisk walk down the alley, around the corner, and to the front door. You fully intend to walk straight back to the frame center so that you can clock in and get to work. You aren't particularly fond of unnecessary niceties this early. However, Andrea, who is attending the point of sale, waves at you warmly and her "hey, Nina!" compels you to respond. At that moment, you begin to feel your phone vibrating in your pocket once again. You wonder if she can hear it. She looks at you expectantly. You hesitate, distracted by your phone and the time and the way Andrea is looking at you. You pull the phone slightly out of your pocket, far enough to see that the number calling is the same as before, and that the time is $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. [[Answer it.->phoneCall1]] [[Stop and say hello, ignoring the call.->intro9]] [[Dismiss her and proceed to the frame center, ignoring the call.->intro10]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(if: (history:)'s last is "phoneCall1")[At first, you can't believe it. Your brother hates to talk on the phone, and will put it off until he has no choice.] You're confused, but also frustrated. "Seb, I don't know why you feel compelled to call me out of nowhere," you snap, "but I'm kind of busy. (if: (history:) contains "intro12")[I don't know how you got my work number. Have you even talked to me since I got this job? You know what, don't answer that.] (if: $isLate)[I'm already late, and ]I need to get to work." "I know you're at work, Nina," he says, "but this is kind of important." (if: not((history:)'s last is "phoneCall3"))[[[Ask if it's an emergency.->phoneCall3]] ][[Ask him to get to the point.->phoneCall4]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")You can't remember the last time that Seb called you, so you immediately assume the worst. "(if: (history:)'s last is "phoneCall1")[Seb?] What's going on?" you worriedly ask. "Are you okay? Is...Dad?" "Yeah, everything's fine," he chuckles, breathing his response, "you can calm down. I'm fine, Dad's fine, there's no fire." You're relieved, but also a bit annoyed. "Then why did you call me eighty times?" "I just really wanted to talk." You know how he is. He would deliberate over calls he had to make and things he had to do until he hyped it up to be a much bigger ordeal than it was, but once he finally got around to it, he would persist until he got it over with. It's weird for him to treat calling you like it was to make a long-overdue dentist's appointment. (if: not((history:)'s last is "phoneCall2"))[[[Tell him you are at work and can't talk right now.->phoneCall2]] ][[Ask him what he really wants.->phoneCall4]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "JeremyImage")(set: $workPhone to true)You pull the phone out of your pocket and jam the "ignore" button out of spite without even hesitating to confirm the number calling. You're officially busy. Not wanting to deal with it any more, you take the slim, barely-out-of-date device back over towards the employee computer and set it securely on a folded up paper towel that was already sitting conspicuously on the desk. Satisfied, you return to working on the bright blue frame. The cheap material is actually quite easy to work with, since it comes in prefabricated segments that just need to be carefully adjusted and affixed. Part of your familiarity with this particular material comes from practice. This would probably be the thirtieth similar frame you've made for Mrs. Everton, each only slightly different in dimension from the last. The painting being framed is on the other side of the work room, carefully filed away on a rack meant to keep canvases in the framing queue out of harm's way. There's a lot to protect them from: stray fingerprints, sawdust, and stains. Sometimes you feel like it's your job to protect them, providing a barrier between artwork, photographs, and the world. Truth is, though, that you often wonder if they are really worth the trouble to set them in their frames. Glancing again at the rack, you conclude that Mrs. Everton's probably are. Under it, though, are three racks with same-looking family photos, all of them composed in a similar way, the primary differences being the number of figures in frame. The sameness is broken up occasionally with a fuzzy dog or a pink baby, and those ones are your favorites. You pull your focus back to the task at hand. After measuring and marking the frame segments and double-checking their accuracy against the canvas measurements, you take the first piece to the small, specialized saw to your left. You slot the wood into the machine, securing it into place and aligning its indicator with the line you drew onto the wood. Your finger is already on the "go" button when you hear the door between the lounge and the workshop open. Leaving the frame in the machine despite protocol, you peek around the machinery and piles of scrap to see Jeremy casually strolling into view. His blonde hair is disheveled, but only on one side. Symmetry is one of the few things that regularly evades him. (if: $isLate)[At first you think he is coming to chastise you because you were late, and you tense up momentarily.](else:)[You got here on time, so you wonder what you could have done wrong to get his attention.] But then you see the store phone in his hand. "Nina," he says, face sullen, "it's for you. I don't know who it is, but he says it's important, and I have a few things to do before business ramps up, so could you..." He extends his arm, thumb partially covering the phone speaker as if what he is saying is strictly confidential. "Okay..." you say(if: not $isLate)[, suddenly feeling guilty for blowing off the multitude of calls that you received on your personal phone]. You take the phone from Jeremy, and he immediately spins around on the balls of his feet before leaving the workshop. (display: "phoneCall1")

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")"Then talk," you demand. You start to believe that it's moderately important if he took the time to call you for the first time in months, but that doesn't mean you have patience to spare. "It's nice to hear from you too, Nina! Yeah, I'm enjoying my job! And the weather, too," he sasses. You can't help but laugh, a single, muted tone. "Seriously, Seb. I really shouldn't stay on the phone. It *is* good to hear from you. But I *am* busy." Sebastian falls quiet for a moment. "I'm in town," he mutters. "'In town' meaning in *my* town?" "Yeah," he says, "it's kind of a long story, but the short of it is that I rode down here with Johnny P. to pick up a few things. I wasn't planning to bother you. But I could use a ride home." You emit a long sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. Some part of you was hoping that Seb was just calling to say hi, after all. He continues, "You know, maybe this is a good thing. Maybe I can spend a few nights here with you. Maybe we can see the sights." A pause, then, "I've missed you, Sis." You hear steps outside the back room door. "Okay, can we talk about this later?" you ask. "Yeah," he muses, "just call me when you get the chance. Please." "At this number? What happened to your old one?" The number that you had for Seb in your phone was different than the one listed on the call. "I've had this number since last Christmas, Nina," he mutters. "Oh," you say. "I'll call you later then. Bye." You hang up before waiting for a response. [[Check in with Jeremy.->intro13]] (if: $clockedIn)[[[Get back to work. ->intro14]]](elseif: (history:) contains "intro9")[[[Clock in.->intro15]]](else:)[[[Get to the employee computer so you can clock in.->intro15]]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "JeremyImage")(set: $timeMinute += 2)(display: "adjustTime")You decide to find Jeremy, (if: $workPhone)[to apologize and return the phone. You head](else:)[suddenly worried that he's looking for you. You stuff your phone into your pocket before heading] out the door and onto the retail floor. You sweep your gaze around the shelves, and see Jeremy, nearby, sweeping the corner near the oil paints. "Jeremy," you say, calmly approaching him. He looks up and pauses his work, leaning awkwardly on the angled broom handle. (if: $workPhone)[You reach your hand out to him, offering the phone. He takes it.] "Sorry I was running late this morning," you say. "There was-" "An accident on Harbor. Yeah, I know," he interrupts, sliding his hand into his pocket. (if: not((history:)'s last is "intro17"))["Listen, I don't really care. I know you too well to think you'd be late without a reason. Besides,](else:)["Why didn't you just go around it?" he asks, but he doesn't give you the opportunity to answer. "You know what, never mind.] I'm not the one (if: $isLate is false)[risking](else:)[adding] marks on my account." He straightens up and grabs the broom to keep sweeping. You hear a customer pick something up off of a shelf in the next aisle. A cheap paint brush, you guess. The kind that keeps people coming in to replace them. "You should get to work on Mrs. Everton's frame. She's supposed to be by to pick it up after she gets off of work this afternoon," Jeremy says, rigidly sweeping as much as he can easily reach from under the shelves. An old price label emerges among a pile of dust. He pushes it into the dustpan sitting at the ready. "Sure thing," you state. You start to head to the back room just as Jeremy picks up the dustpan and begins to transport it to the garbage bin under the point of sale. As you swing the door open to enter the back room, you notice that the other store phone is still on its stand atop the computer desk. It's strange that Jeremy didn't just forward the call, like he does for most frame orders. (if: $clockedIn)[[[Get back to work. ->intro14]]](else:)[[[Clock in.->intro15]]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")You navigate back to the work bench, where Mrs. Everton's frame sits, skeletal, waiting for you to make it whole. You look it over for a moment, trying to recall where you left off. One of the pieces has had the angles cut off for the corners. The others haven't. You pick up one of the less molested pieces and take it to the saw. Before turning it on, you hear the phone ring in the other room. (if: $isLate)[You let it.](else:)[You stop your work, once again, to answer.] (link: "End.")[(goto: "Ch2")]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(if: not $clockedIn)[(if: not((history:) contains "intro9"))[You navigate to the back room. ](if: $hasBrunch)[You place the bag containing your cold breakfast securely on the desk, out of the way. You take a swig of your orange juice before setting it down, too. ]You lean over the over the keyboard, and after a few well-rehearsed taps, the aging desktop tells you that your time punch is finalized at $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute.](if: $isLate and $timeMinute < 5)[Technically, you're late. But to your relief, you aren't late enough to get that third mark on your account.](elseif: not $isLate)[If you believed in providence, you would thank it for somehow allowing you to get to work on time.](else:)[A warning appears on the screen, letting you know that you are receiving a mark on your account. You're not sure why, but you don't really care.] You are startled as the store phone abruptly starts ringing, its harsh screech painful at such close proximity. (if: $isLate)[You let it ring.](else:)[You sigh, and answer it.] (link: "End.")[(goto: "Ch2")]

(set: $displayFooter to true)(display: "variablesInit")<div class="chapter_header">[[Work->intro1]]</div>

<div class="chapter_header">[[Evening->afterWork1]]</div>

(if: $parkStreetVisited is false)[(set: $parkStreetVisited to true)You drive down the block towards Park Street, seeing that north-heading traffic is nonexistent over there and you can probably get to work pretty quickly. To your dismay, you notice an ominous white "one-way" sign indicating that you can only go south. You mentally kick yourself. Of course this street is one-way. You take it all the time on your way back to your apartment. You consider driving past Park and onto the next street, but decide against it, concluding that heading further east will just get you into more trouble. (if: not((passage:)'s name is "inter12"))[Now, you have to decide where would be the best place to turn around.] ]

<div class="chapter_header">[[Brunch->dayOff1]]</div>

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")"Um, (if: not($satAt is "either"))[a ]$satAt would be fine, I guess," you say, suddenly self-conscious. The hostess nods and leads both of you over to (if: $satAt is "booth")[a booth in the far corner of the restaurant](else:)[a table near the center of the restaurant]. On your way to your seat, you're taken off guard by the eerily consistent lighting, the flawless waxed floors, and the series of meticulously mounted sea creatures scattered among original paintings of crystalline seascapes. The floors, though, seem worn. You pass a table occupied by men in suits radiating business importance. Then, a small, well-dressed family. Then, an older, dignified man eating a soufflé alone. None of them notice you, but you still feel them and begin to look forward to sitting down. You sit opposite from Seb, and don't have time to so much as (if: $satAt is "booth")[glance outside the window next to you](else:)[come to terms with the open space around you] before a waitress approaches the table. She fills the pre-prepared glasses in front of you with icy water. "Hi there," the waitress beams, as if the two of you are old friends that she'd been meaning to get in touch with for years. "Have you been to the Salmon before?" She proceeds to fire off the restaurant's daily specials, all of which you forget as soon as you hear them. Then she leaves, promising to return shortly, and you are left with the slim, beige menu left behind on the table. You begin to try and choose a meal. It's minimalistic in content as well as design. You look up at Sebastian, and he's intently studying his copy. First he focuses on the beverages, then the meals, then the beverages again. [[Ask him what he thinks of the menu.->dayOff3]] [[Ask him why he insisted on eating here.->dayOff4]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")"So, what are you thinking about ordering?" you ask, having not even looked at the menu yourself. "Dunno." He says. The bill of his black baseball cap touches the top side of the menu's fold as he tilts his head down to inspect something on the bottom. "I know this place is all about their seafood, but I kind of just want a steak." You don't say anything, and continue to read over your own copy. Seeing the prices, you wish that you hadn't even jokingly mentioned this place to Seb. It was true that you had always wanted to eat here, but you had expected Seb to go for some obscure burger joint or Mexican restaurant, not this. The waitress returns. "Do you know what you would like to order?" she chimes, thin hands on her hips. "I'll tell you, today's lobster bisque is something special!" [[Order the cheapest thing.->dayOff5]] [[Order a reasonably priced item.->dayOff6]] [[Order something extravagant.->dayOff7]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebHappyImage")Seb's black baseball cap looms over the menu in front of him, casting enough of a shadow that you are surprised he can still read it. Maybe he can't. "Seb," you say, and he looks up, "why are we here?" "Uh, because we're hungry?" You raise your eyebrow. "Technically," he mutters, hoarsely, "you're the one who said you had always wanted to eat here." "Yeah, as a joke," you argue. "Except it wasn't, really. I could tell." He's right, and you know it. But, looking at your wrinkled green shirt and his smudged button-up that is trying its hardest to conceal his hand-me-down sleeveless work shirt, you feel like you should be somewhere else. The waitress returns. "Do you know what you would like to order?" she chimes, thin hands on her hips. "I'll tell you, today's lobster bisque is something special!" [[Order the cheapest thing.->dayOff5]] [[Order a reasonably priced item.->dayOff6]] [[Order something extravagant.->dayOff7]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")You quietly sigh, and Seb decides that means he should order first. "Um, the... signature surf n' turf," he growls, intentionally hesitant but unintentionally gruff. During that time, you check the menu for the lobster bisque. It's half the price of Seb's order. "I'll have the lobster bisque. Extra crackers, please." "Ah, great choices, both of you! What about drinks? Were you planning to stick to water? We have coffee, juice-" "I'd love a mimosa," you interject. "Yeah, me too," Seb adds, an afterthought. "Okay," the waitress says, taking a mental note of your orders, grabbing the menus, and taking her leave. Seb props his arms on the table. "You didn't have to do that, you know," he says. "What?" He scratches his face and briefly looks over your shoulder. You wonder what he saw. "Order the cheapest thing I saw the price on the menu. It's a special occasion, after all. You can eat something nice every once in a while." "Eh," you dismissively cluck, "the waitress said that it's good. I like lobster bisque." "Have you had it before?" "Once." [[Ask about his drink order.->dayOff8]] [[Look around the restaurant.->dayOff9]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebHappyImage")You quietly sigh, and Seb decides that means he should order first. "Um, the... signature surf n' turf," he growls, intentionally hesitant but unintentionally gruff. During that time, you check the menu for your order. It's somewhat cheaper than Seb's order. "I'll have the fish and chips. With tartar sauce and malt vinegar." "Ah, great choices, both of you! What about drinks? Were you planning to stick to water? We have coffee, juice-" "I'd love a mimosa," you interject. "Yeah, me too," Seb adds, an afterthought. "Okay," the waitress says, taking a mental note of your orders, grabbing the menus, and taking her leave. Seb leans back in his chair, relaxing as soon as the waitress is a safe distance away. "Malt vinegar. Gross." "You're gross," you snap back. Seb leans back forward and smiles. "Yeah, you got me there," he says. He lowers his voice and gestures behind you. "Not as gross as those two, though." You resist the urge to immediately turn around at the risk of drawing attention to yourself. Your mind starts to reel at the possibilities, and Seb leans back and stifles a small laugh. [[Ask about his drink order.->dayOff8]] [[Look at the gross phenomenon behind you.->dayOff10]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")You quietly sigh, and Seb decides that means he should order first. "Um, the... signature surf n' turf," he growls, intentionally hesitant but unintentionally gruff. During that time, you compare prices to your order. It's more expensive than Seb's. "I'll have the lobster mac n' cheese. With a beet salad on the side." "Ah, great choices, both of you! What about drinks? Were you planning to stick to water? We have coffee, juice-" "I'd love a mimosa," you interject. "Yeah, me too," Seb adds, an afterthought. "Okay," the waitress says, taking a mental note of your orders, grabbing the menus, and taking her leave. Seb turns and gives you a dramatic look. "Lobster. Mac n' cheese," he says, shaking his head in appreciation, "why didn't I order that?" "Because you aren't as cool as me," you say. (if: (history:)'s last is "dayOff4")[He sneers. "What ever happened to 'this place is too expensive?'" "Well," you note, "we're here now, so I might as well take advantage of the handsome dude who wants to buy my dinner. ]Seb snorts and takes a drink of his water, looking at some point far behind you. You imagine he's still thinking about the mac n' cheese. [[Ask about his drink order.->dayOff8]] [[Look around the restaurant.->dayOff9]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")(if: (history:)'s last is "dayOff6")[Instead of taking the bait, you decide to change the subject. ]"A mimosa, huh?" you prod. "What?" Seb asks, perplexed. "You got one, too." "Yeah," you maintain, "it just doesn't seem like something you would get is all. He wipes the side of his face, making you impulsively do the same, just in case it's a signal. His hand glides across his eye and towards his ear, slowly and with purpose. You swipe your cheek. "What did you expect?" he replies. What you want to say is "something plain." Instead, you shrug. The waitress approaches with your drinks. "So," she begins, "I meant to ask this earlier, but what's the occasion? Birthday? Anniversary?" She looks back and forth between your blank faces, hesitating. "First date?" [[Correct her.->dayOff11]] [[Let your silence speak for itself.->dayOff12]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")The space around you is buzzing, and a gust of air from a nearby vent makes you feel exposed. You swivel your head to the right, and see tables filled with people, some of which you've already taken notice of. They all seem like the type to be eating at a place like this: a sea of dry-cleaned clothes and soft voices. Your head turning upward, you take in the sheerness of the far wall, interrupted only by a small sign indicating the restrooms and a huge trout on a plaque. Your neck cranes further, and you see that the space above you is peppered with small, expensive lights that, lost in the relatively dark and faraway ceiling, look just like stars. Eventually, you end up looking to the left. (if: $satAt is "booth")[You're confronted with the outside world for a moment. 24th Street is on the other side of the thick glass pane, which you are able to recall from memory rather than conclude based on what you see. You think it's strange that there would be windows here at all. It's doesn't feel all that fancy to be able to stare at passing cars or the pallid side of the neighboring building, no matter how well the window is covered with over-groomed shrubbery.](else:)[There's one empty table between you and the other wall. Everything on it is perfectly arranged, as if on display. The salt shaker and it's darker companion are perfectly in the center, accompanying a decorative stand and an unlit candle. You glance back at your own table, and see that the candle in front of you is, similarly, unlit. As tempted as you are to play "spot-the-difference," you instead look up at the painting overlooking the table. It's blue-toned and calm, the waters in the foreground refusing to reflect the gray mountains and the port town beyond.] "What are you, an owl?" Seb interrupts. He had been watching you, trying to figure out exactly what you were doing. Before you get to answer, the waitress approaches with your drinks. "So," she begins, "I meant to ask this earlier, but what's the occasion? Birthday? Anniversary?" She looks back and forth between your blank faces, hesitating. "First date?" [[Correct her.->dayOff11]] [[Let your silence speak for itself.->dayOff12]]

(display: "NinaHappyImage")(display: "SebHappyImage")You wait a few moments, curiosity mounting, until you feel that it's safe to look at them undetected. Since they are right behind you, you have to turn almost completely around in your chair. You immediately see what Seb was talking about. There is a couple in a booth (if: $satAt is "booth")[right behind you, and the backs are short enough that you can get a clear view of them over it.](else:)[not far from you, and you can see both of them plain as day.] The two of them - a woman in her mid-thirties and a man who seems to be ten years younger - are sitting on the same side of the booth, pressed so close together that you wouldn't be surprised to find out that this very spectacle was the inspiration for half of David Cronenberg's creations. The worst part, probably, is that they aren't even kissing or otherwise being outwardly obscene. They are silent, occasionally taking bites out of their huge, shared salad, all the while making hungry glances at each other as if at any moment they might stand up, rush out, and never come back. You stare longer than you should, but neither of them is concerned with you in the slightest. You turn back to Sebastian, eyes wide, with a flat face. That was the last straw. Seb bucks forward, laughing like he used to after hiding frogs in Mom's underwear drawer. He never had a good poker face. A much as you want to egg him on until he falls out of his chair in hysteria, your social self-consciousness proves to be too much for you to handle. "Shh," you hiss at him, utilizing all of your willpower to not join in, "you're causing a racket!" He eventually calms down enough to speak, his words interspersed with succinct huffs of leftover laughter, "What, are you - huh - embarrassed of me-hee?" "Yeah," you say, smiling, "get it together, you goof." Seb is still redfaced when the waitress approaches with your drinks. "So," she begins, "I meant to ask this earlier, but what's the occasion? Birthday? Anniversary?" She looks back and forth between your blank faces, hesitating. "First date?" [[Correct her.->dayOff11]] [[Let your silence speak for itself.->dayOff12]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebIrritatedImage")Your eyes widen. (if: (history:)'s last is "dayOff10")[The color briefly vacates Seb's face, then slowly returns a different shade.](else:)[Seb's do the same.] "Um, are you serious? No, this is my brother. There's no occasion," you sputter. "Oh, I am so sorry!" the waitress gushes, immensely embarrassed, but not as much as Seb seems to be. He silently sits, immobile, not acknowledging the rest of the conversation. After a moment of stranded silence, it seems that everyone's face is flushed but yours. "Your meal will be out shortly," the waitress says to punctuate her involvement in the incidient, snapping around and shuffling away to another table. Not long after she leaves, you hear Seb release a frustrated sigh. "Well, that was awkward," he says, using a tone that suggests he is trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah," you reply, "it's not a big deal, though. Honestly, it's a pretty fair assumption based on their normal clientele." (if: (history:)'s last is "dayOff10")[You gesture knowingly to the couple seated behind you. He laughs](else:)[Something about that makes him laugh], but his eyes, zoned into something small on the floor, are angry. [[Ask Seb if he's okay.->dayOff13]] [[Leave him to his thoughts.->dayOff14]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebIrritatedImage")Your eyes widen. (if: (history:)'s last is "dayOff10")[The color briefly vacates Seb's face, then slowly returns a different shade.](else:)[Seb's do the same.] You don't say anything, and instead give the waitress a purposeful, horrified look that you hope signals to her that she's painfully wrong. "Oh, um, I'm sorry," the waitress starts, unsure how to respond, "I guess I shouldn't be presumptuous. You see, we give free desserts..." she trails off. "Yeah, you shouldn't be," Sebastian mumbles. "Be what?" "Presumptuous." The waitress purses her lips. "Um..." she hesitates. "Your meal will be out shortly." She spins on her heels and gets to her next table as soon as possible. Not long after she leaves, you hear Seb release a frustrated sigh. "Well, that was awkward," he says, using a tone that suggests he is trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah," you reply, "it's not a big deal, though. Honestly, it's a pretty fair assumption based on their normal clientele." (if: (history:)'s last is "dayOff10")[You gesture knowingly to the couple seated behind you. He laughs](else:)[Something about that makes him laugh], but his eyes, zoned into something small on the floor, are angry. [[Ask Seb if he's okay.->dayOff13]] [[Leave him to his thoughts.->dayOff14]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebIrritatedImage")Seb seems to be thoroughly distressed, and you find it strange and offputting for him to be acting this irrationally. You're embarrassed, too, but Seb is seething. The behavior is familiar, and you feel a fleeting fear that you don't want to remember. "Hey, Seb," you say, tentatively, "are you alright? I swear, it's not a big deal. It was just a little slip-up." "Yeah, you're right." He straightens up, but you can tell something burning is still caught in his gears. "Geez," you say. He responds by taking a sip from his drink, trying to appear calm. "Is this orange juice and alcohol?" "Yep," you say. "It's perfect," he states, taking a second sip, sloshing it around a bit in his mouth. You take a drink of yours. It's smooth and sweet, probably made from in-house oranges. (if: $offeredOrange is true)[It almost makes you reconsider your fridge stock.] Seb sets his drink back on the table, the saucer-like base dangerously close to the edge. "Sorry about that, Nina." [[Brush it off and move on.->dayOff17]] [[Ask about what happened.->dayOff18]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")Seb's mood is thoroughly soured, and you think that bugging him about it will just make it worse. You're embarrassed, too, but his reaction moves a little bit past embarrassment and more towards trauma. Something about the irrationality of it makes you briefly afraid. Seb seems to have a sudden moment of clarity, sighs, and straightens, even though something inside him is still burning. His hand lands on the top of his hat, and his other one roughly grabs his drink. He looks at it accusingly. "This has orange juice in it, doesn't it?" You nod(if: (history:) contains "dayOff8")[, and he continues, "I guess that explains why you were so weird about it. ](else:)[. Picking it up for a sniff, he says, "]I figured it was like a flowery soda, or something." He takes a sip, and his face contracts in suspicion before expanding, pleased. "Not bad. Seems appropriate for a big city brunch." "You didn't know what a mimosa was, and you ordered one?" you ask, picking up your own narrow glass and having a taste. They probably made the orange juice themselves, or something. It's refreshing, smooth, and slightly frothy. (if: (history:) contains "afterWork55")["I guess I trusted your judgement," he says, taking another sip and sloshing it around in his mouth before swallowing, "and I'm glad I did. Plus, I might as well try new things while I'm here.](else:)["Hell, I didn't know what to get," he says, taking another sip and sloshing it around in his mouth before swallowing. "It's okay, I guess.] What do they put in this?" "It's just orange juice and champagne. Nothing fancy." "Tastes pretty fancy to me. It's nice," he insists, and as if suddenly remembering something important, thrusts his glass out towards you. "Cheers." [[Cheers.->dayOff15]] [[Call him cheesy.->dayOff16]]

(display: "NinaHappyImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")You emit a small laugh, and raise your hand up in kind. There is a tiny, melodious "chink," and you say, "To having dinner with you!" "Yeah," he concurs, in his usual gruff way, "to reunions." You both take yet another sip. Your glass is half empty. Sebastian's has a few toasts' worth left. You look closely at Seb: what he's wearing, the way he sits. As you do so, an older woman at a nearby table looks over her shoulder and makes eye contact with you for an instant, and you feel the brief, dull pain of that accidental acknowledgement, doubled by her proximity to you. In that moment, you're sure she saw a trace of frizz in your hair, the sheen of your Walgreens-brand lipstick, the long, jagged wrinkle in your slacks pulled too late from closet-hibernation, and your permanently uncrossed ankles. For you, this is an occasion. For her, this is Friday, and for Seb, this is just another stuffy restaurant. You want to question his Carhartt jacket and everyday jeans, but you know he won't be bothered by what the people around him think. That is, as long as they don't say anything, or come anywhere close. "So," Seb begins, (if: (history:)'s last is "dayOff17")["now it's my turn to ask awkward questions. Do *you* have a boyfriend?"](else:)[and you can imagine the thoughts literally swimming around in his head, "I guess you don't have a boyfriend, then, if I haven't met him."] You should have seen this coming. [[Tell him that you don't.->dayOff21]] [[Completely avoid answering.->bathroom1]]

(display: "NinaHappyImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")His sudden, jovial gesture strikes you as ridiculous, so you don't meet his glass as he raises it to hover above the unlit candle between you. Instead, you laugh mutedly and say, "Put that down, you goof, before you spill it all over the place." He laughs, too, and obediently sets the glass back down. He only seems to be slightly disappointed. You look closely at Seb: what he's wearing, the way he sits. As you do so, an older woman at a nearby table looks over her shoulder and makes eye contact with you for an instant, and you feel the brief, dull pain of that accidental acknowledgement, doubled by her proximity to you. In that moment, you're sure she saw a trace of frizz in your hair, the sheen of your Walgreens-brand lipstick, the long, jagged wrinkle in your slacks pulled too late from closet-hibernation, and your permanently uncrossed ankles. For you, this is an occasion. For her, this is Friday, and for Seb, this is just another stuffy restaurant. You want to question his Carhartt jacket and everyday jeans, but you know he won't be bothered by what the people around him think. That is, as long as they don't say anything, or come anywhere close. "So," Seb begins, and you can imagine the thoughts literally swimming around in his head, "I guess you don't have a boyfriend, then, if I haven't met him." You should have seen this coming. [[Tell him that you don't.->dayOff21]] [[Completely avoid answering.->bathroom1]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebIrritatedImage")"Sorry about what?" you ask, pretending to be oblivious. "The waitress was weird, you got mad, it already happened. Can we move on, please?" "Yeah, we can," Seb says. "What do you want to talk about?" You try and come up with something that will distract him the most. "You." He laughs. "More? I thought you got your twenty questions out of your system last night." "Nope. Since the waitress got us started on awkward stuff... do you have a girlfriend?" Seb hesitates. "Yeah." He takes a sizable gulp from his glass. "Do you remember Mary Hudson? I think you were in choir class with her or something." "Oh my gosh," you exclaim, "*Mary*?" Seb sighs before tightly closing his mouth, shaking his head back and forth slowly. "Then..." you begin, confused. "Her aunt Joyce." You bob backwards as subtly as your surprise will allow. "Oh." "I mean," he continues, flushing again, "she's pretty great. It's not regular, though. She just visits sometimes. And I like it when she stays." "Uh huh," you say, still taken aback, but trying not to act weirded out. It doesn't work, and you can tell that Seb would regret telling you if it wasn't for the fact that he was happy to have someone to tell. As if suddenly remembering something important, he raises his glass. "Cheers, I guess," he says. [[To us.->dayOff15]] [[To Joyce.->dayOff20]] [[Call him cheesy.->dayOff16]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebIrritatedImage")You remember Seb acting the same way when Dad cut down the apple tree in the back yard. He had been climbing in it before he could walk, and every season, he loved collecting all of the fruit from the highest branches. He was always so proud of his full basket of apples. You don't remember why Dad had to cut it down, but you remember Seb's anger. He never made a sound, but he would seethe for hours, and that was somehow so much worse. "What was that about, Seb?" "I dunno. It just made me mad, I guess," he grumbles, not seeming particularly proud. "So you were just mad, huh?" you prod. "It's just... freaking gross. How could she think..." His nose flares, and he cups his forehead with his hand. "Look, I know it's stupid. I just get angry about stupid things, because I'm a stupid person. I'm trying to get better. Can we please move on so that I don't have to think about it?" You give him a tender look. As much as you want to understand this part of him, and always have, you decide to respect his desire to move on. So, you take a drink and wait for him to continue. He eyes you drinking from your glass, and suddenly seems to remember something important and decides to utilize it as a distraction. He raises his mimosa towards the void above. "Cheers?" [[Cheers to us.->dayOff15]] [[To Dad.->dayOff19]] [[Call him cheesy.->dayOff16]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")You gingerly raise your glass, touch the lip to the side of his, and say, "To Dad." Sebastian doesn't reply, and precariously sets his glass on the edge of the table. He looks at you inquisitively. He most certainly didn't suddenly remember the apple tree incident like you did, and certainly wouldn't like to. So, he probably didn't understand your jaded lilt, either. Truthfully, you don't want to talk about Dad. Not really. It just felt like the right thing to say, somehow. You set your glass on the edge, too. Yours on your right, his on his left. You look closely at Seb: what he's wearing, the way he sits. As you do so, an older woman at a nearby table looks over her shoulder and makes eye contact with you for an instant, and you feel the brief, dull pain of that accidental acknowledgement, doubled by her proximity to you. In that moment, you're sure she saw a trace of frizz in your hair, the sheen of your Walgreens-brand lipstick, the long, jagged wrinkle in your slacks pulled too late from closet-hibernation, and your permanently uncrossed ankles. For you, this is an occasion. For her, this is Friday, and for Seb, this is just another stuffy restaurant. You want to question his Carhartt jacket and everyday jeans, but you know he won't be bothered by what the people around him think. That is, as long as they don't say anything, or come anywhere close. But you still want to ask if he has any idea how much he looks like Dad. You want to ask if he feels that same anger when he looks in a mirror. "So," Seb begins, and you can imagine the thoughts literally swimming around in his head, "I guess you don't have a boyfriend, then, if I haven't met him." You should have seen this coming. [[Tell him that you don't.->dayOff21]] [[Completely avoid answering.->bathroom1]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")You gingerly raise your glass, touch the lip to the side of his, and say, "To Joyce." He sheepishy brings his hand down and sets his glass on the precipice of the table after taking a sip to cover his face. He seems pleased that you didn't make a big deal about her age. He would have expected that from anyone else. You look closely at Seb: what he's wearing, the way he sits. As you do so, an older woman at a nearby table looks over her shoulder and makes eye contact with you for an instant, and you feel the brief, dull pain of that accidental acknowledgement, doubled by her proximity to you. In that moment, you're sure she saw a trace of frizz in your hair, the sheen of your Walgreens-brand lipstick, the long, jagged wrinkle in your slacks pulled too late from closet-hibernation, and your permanently uncrossed ankles. For you, this is an occasion. For her, this is Friday, and for Seb, this is just another stuffy restaurant. You want to question his Carhartt jacket and everyday jeans, but you know he won't be bothered by what the people around him think. That is, as long as they don't say anything, or come anywhere close. But you still want to ask if he has any idea how much he looks like Dad. You want to ask if he feels that same anger when he looks in a mirror. You want to ask if Joyce looks at him like Mom looked at Dad the day she left. "So," Seb begins, and you can imagine the thoughts literally swimming around in his head, "I guess you don't have a boyfriend, then, if I haven't met him." You should have seen this coming. [[Tell him that you don't.->dayOff21]] [[Completely avoid answering.->bathroom1]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")To Seb, and Dad, and to everyone back home, romantic relationships always seem to be the primary talking point at any social event. Your Dad was a stereotype in that he loved to scare the shit out of all of your short-lived highschool boyfriends. Seb's girlfriends, too. It wasn't so much a matter of them not being good enough as it was just something fun for him to do. Maybe that's why, now, you're so comfortable with being alone. It's just about the last thing that you ever want to talk about, which makes you regret bringing it up at all to Seb. "No, Seb," you say, "I don't have a boyfriend for you to terrorize." He gives you a disappointed head tilt. "Who says I would terrorize them?" "I says." "Well," Seb goes on, "whatever happened to that guy from college?" You almost say "which one?" but you remember that he could only be referring to your only serious boyfriend, Alec. "Oh, man," you confess, "that's some old dirt." "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means that we were doomed for failure," you explain. Sebastian thinks about that for a second. You anxiously tap your fingers on the table, wondering what is taking your food so long to arrive. "My question still stands," Seb eventually continues. "What happened?" [[Give as few details as possible.->dayoff22]] [[Excuse yourself.->bathroom1]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")You briskly(if: $satAt is "booth")[, and with some effort, slide out of](else:)[ scrape back] your seat. "I'll be right back," you say, locating the restroom and taking a step in that direction. (if: not((history:)'s last is "dayOff23") or ((history:)'s last is "dayOff24"))["Um, okay, what did-" Seb starts to object, but you ignore him and walk out of reasonable conversational range.] You approach the unlatched door of the restroom, which only has the capacity for one occupant, and let yourself inside. A moment later, you are standing in front of the sink, your hands waving desperately in front of the motion sensor. On the third try, the sink turns on - for half of a second, before switching back off. You keep trying, and with enough effort you are eventually able to wash your hands successfully. You catch your own eye in the mirror in front of you. You look tired. Raking your hands through your hair, you stare yourself down and sigh. Seb's arrival has brought with it a menagerie of conflicting emotions that have made it hard for you to focus. It's like there's a weight on your chest, and every time he talks to you, or you think about home, it constricts around your rib cage: a python that's hoping you will dramatically explode before your last breath. You wonder when the day was that you stopped feeling comfortable around Seb, who for all of your childhood was your closest friend. Your classmates would have thought you were twins, if you were ever in the same class. After you graduated, Seb was left behind. Maybe it was then. Dad was left behind, too. First by Mom, then by you. You don't blame him for his resentment, because you can feel it just as well as he can. He loved that you and Seb were content to take up all of your time with each other, but he was still there: your sweaty, alcoholic glue. He just couldn't understand why you had to leave, why you had to choose the new over the old. You can't deny that you miss the trees, the water, and the large-grain sand. But when that's all there is, it's not enough. Beauty is not enough. You don't yet have the ability to appreciate it, at least not like Seb can. You wonder if you should be acting differently. [[You should be nicer to Seb.->posSeb]] [[You should be less critical of Dad.->posDad]] [[You should be more accepting of home.->posHome]] [[Nothing should change.->bathroom5]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")Since for some reason Seb is determined to get answers, you try to give as little as you can get away with. That is, enough to tide him over until the food gets here and he becomes distracted by his surf n' turf. "I wouldn't say anything 'happened,' per se," you say, as a half-truth. "Alec was a jerk, and always had been." "He didn't seem so bad to me," Seb suggests. "He was athletic, and was real nice to me over the phone. He had a good job at that country club or whatever." "Yeah, well," you sneer, "that was just about all that he had going for him." Seb's expression makes you roll your eyes. "I find that hard to believe," he counters. "That guy was a keeper. Are you sure you couldn't have..." "Yes." Seb sighs. "Look, Nina, I'm just trying to understand, is all." You know that he means well, but you really wish that he would just take your word for it and talk about something else. You had long since moved on, and it seems pointless to you to dredge this up. Seb, though, just wants to see inside your head. He wants to find out if he still knows you. [[Tell him about the breakup.->dayOff23]] [[Avoid him by going to the restroom.->bathroom1]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebIrritatedImage")You clutch your drink and finish it off before recounting the tragedy that was the last few weeks of your third college semester. "Well," you begin, "two days after you hung up from that phone call with Alec, I caught him screwing a librarian in my dorm room." Seb's eyes go wide. He wanted the details, so you are going to give them. You look around to make sure no one is eavesdropping, just in case, even though at this point it is too late. (if: (history:) contains "dayOff10")[You spy the couple behind you again, their eyes permanently locked onto one another and nothing else.] "We spent about a week trying to forget that it happened. It almost worked, honestly, and I might still be with him if it wasn't for the fact that I came home from work early and caught him again." Seb looks at his feet. "I told him not to come back," you continue, "and he gave me a bloody nose. But he still left. I haven't seen him. Maybe he changed majors, or dropped out, or died. I don't really care." Seb stays frozen in his seat. You expect him to get angry again, but he just looks embarrassed. He's embarrassed because he didn't already know that story. He's not embarrassed that he asked about it. "So, yeah," you scold, "you're a pretty bad judge of character, I guess." He continues to avoid eye contact. You continue tapping your hand on the table. [[Wait for your food in silence.->dayOff24]] [[Go to the restroom and compose yourself.->bathroom1]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebIrritatedImage")(if: not((history:) contains "dayOff24"))[At first you try to think of something to say, but starting small talk was never a skill that you were able to master. More than anything you want the food to arrive to help punctuate another awkward moment between you and Seb. You tap your fingers in a repeated pattern, and Seb watches the movement for a moment before leaning back and looking side to side for the waitress. She's not in sight. ]You change up your pattern. *(either: "Tap-tap, tap. Tap, tap","Tap tap. Tap-tap, tap, tap-tap-tap","Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap-tap, tap","Tap-tap, tap, tap-tap","Tap. Tap, tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap","Tap-tap-tap, tap, tap. Tap-tap").* You (either: "consider pulling out your cell phone, but think that might be a bit too much in bad taste","begin to wonder what everyone around you is talking about: family, friends, work, movies, weekend plans","start to realize that all of the water and orange juice you've been drinking is having an effect, and you think about excusing yourself to use the restroom","notice the tiniest of imperfections in the surface of the table, and it, occasionally catching on your fingernail, disrupts your tapping"). Your food still shows no sign of arriving. Tension (if: not((history:) contains "dayOff24"))[begins to crawl](else:)[crawls] along the skin of your exposed arms. [[Keep waiting.->dayOff24]] [[Escape.->bathroom1]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")Seb is trying to be here for you. You should at least do the same for him. You know that his story about Johnny P. is only halfway true. You could see it in the way that he showed up at your doorstep, angry and frustrated at himself and at you, ready to tell you about how much that place is missing since you left. It's hollow, but, at least for Seb, it's not selfish. He thinks it's good for you, even if it's not. It can't be. You can't let it be. But Seb is your brother. He's part of you. So, you should be grateful to finally be able to remember what it's like when he cares. You wonder if something, though, is still wrong. [[You should be more critical of Dad.->negDad]] [[You should be less reliant on home.->negHome]] [[Nothing should change.->bathroom5]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")You keep thinking of Dad. (if: (history:) contains "afterWork21")[Seb never admitted that he had anything to do with this visit, but you know that it's true.](else:)[You wonder if he knows that Seb is here, and if he had anything to do with this visit.] He was the one who said that you were stupid for leaving in the first place, after all. He said that he didn't want you to become a different person. He didn't want you to forget. You don't want to forget, either. Dad was wrong about a lot of things. It had been at least twenty years since he had seen much of anything beyond the mountains with his own eyes, and he spent a good portion of those years trying to be someone whom you could look up to. It's not his fault that you wanted more than he could offer. You wanted to see beauty in places he refused to. Sometimes you wonder if he was right all along. You wonder if something, though, is still wrong. [[You should be harder on Seb.->negSeb]] [[You should be less reliant on home.->negHome]] [[Nothing should change.->bathroom5]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")Your train of thought leads you to places that used to be your own: a half-buried car husk that you and Seb tried to destroy with a broom handle, a bend in the creek where you would always go to watch the creepy-crawlies, a tree in the schoolyard, a diner where two of your cousins worked. A part of you is still in each of those places, keeping you just near enough to feel them. The mountain bends and wooded fields were not things that you could talk about anymore. And before, you never had a reason to. You miss the quiet and the places to hide, most of all. Dad and Seb both need that stillness to survive. You wonder if something, though, is still wrong. [[You should be harder on Seb.->negSeb]] [[You should be more critical of Dad.->negDad]] [[Nothing should change.->bathroom5]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")You turn the sink back on and splash your face. Realizing that you didn't prepare something to dry it with, you rub the worst of the water out of your eyes with the back of your hand and, leaning forward to prevent your shirt from getting wet, stretch your arm towards the towel dispenser. You stare at yourself again. You think about Seb, and Dad, and home, and this restaurant, and your job. You think about you, and why you're here. You turn to leave the restroom. The door swings shut behind you, and you make your way back to the table. Sebastian anxiously looks up at you as you are getting ready to sit down. Then, he slowly stands up. "I think I'm going to use the restroom, too," he murmurs, straightening his oversized hoodie to the best of his ability. "Oh, okay," you say, just as you finally settle. Seb disappears, and you find yourself looking down at the empty table, searching for flaws on the tablecloth. A waitress soon appears, drawing you out of your brief stupor. It's a different waitress than earlier, and excitingly, she brings with her both of your meals. "Here you go!" she says, setting your plate in front of you before placing Seb's in front of the empty seat on the other side. "Oh, thank you so much!" you reply, concerned more with the food than with her. The waitress, though, hesitates before leaving. "Hey," she says, her workplace persona slipping for a moment, "Nina? Nina Fish, is that you?" [[Confirm your identity.->dayOff25]] [[Ask how she knows you.->dayOff26]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(set: $negChoice to true)Sebastian shouldn't have come here. You want to appreciate him because he's your brother, but it's hard to feel grateful when all he's done is made you question where you are and why, even if he didn't intend to. He's the one who is being stubborn - cowardly, even - for not venturing out on his own. He may be more comfortable than you(if: (history:) contains "afterWork29" or (history:) contains "afterWork39")[with his house and his garden](else:)[without ever leaving home], but comfort zones are dangerous. It's been easy to see that ever since you left yours behind. You continue to stare at yourself, and you think about what Seb sees. You sigh, and turn to leave the restroom. The door swings shut behind you, and you make your way back to the table. Sebastian anxiously looks up at you as you are getting ready to sit down. Then, he slowly stands up. "I think I'm going to use the restroom, too," he murmurs, straightening his oversized hoodie to the best of his ability. "Oh, okay," you say, just as you finally settle. Seb disappears, and you find yourself looking down at the empty table, searching for flaws on the tablecloth. A waitress soon appears, drawing you out of your brief stupor. It's a different waitress than earlier, and excitingly, she brings with her both of your meals. "Here you go!" she says, setting your plate in front of you before placing Seb's in front of the empty seat on the other side. "Oh, thank you so much!" you reply, concerned more with the food than with her. The waitress, though, hesitates before leaving. "Hey," she says, her workplace persona slipping for a moment, "Nina? Nina Fish, is that you?" [[Confirm your identity.->dayOff25]] [[Ask how she knows you.->dayOff26]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(set: $negChoice to true)(if: (history:) contains "afterWork21")[You can't believe that he guilted - or maybe intimidated - Sebastian into this visit. Seb wouldn't admit it at the apartment last night, but you know it's true.](else:)[You get the feeling that Sebastian is only here because of Dad.] Sebastian (if: (history:)'s last is "posSeb")[has good intentions](else:)[is the one that's here, not Dad], but you know that behind him is some element of malice, or jealousy, or something in between. It's his indecision that infuriates you the most. He barely accepted that you were leaving for college, then shunned you after you decided to stay when it was over. The few times that you had tried to reach out to him might as well have been ignored; he would barely talk, and acted like you were a stranger, or at the worst moments, a telemarketer. And now he tries to pull you back, probably to make himself feel a little less lonely. If you do go home, it will just be for Seb. You look at yourself, and wonder if Dad would even recognize you. Sighing, you turn to leave the restroom. The door swings shut behind you, and you make your way back to the table. Sebastian anxiously looks up at you as you are getting ready to sit down. Then, he slowly stands up. "I think I'm going to use the restroom, too," he murmurs, straightening his oversized hoodie to the best of his ability. "Oh, okay," you say, just as you finally settle. Seb disappears, and you find yourself looking down at the empty table, searching for flaws on the tablecloth. A waitress soon appears, drawing you out of your brief stupor. It's a different waitress than earlier, and excitingly, she brings with her both of your meals. "Here you go!" she says, setting your plate in front of you before placing Seb's in front of the empty seat on the other side. "Oh, thank you so much!" you reply, concerned more with the food than with her. The waitress, though, hesitates before leaving. "Hey," she says, her workplace persona slipping for a moment, "Nina? Nina Fish, is that you?" [[Confirm your identity.->dayOff25]] [[Ask how she knows you.->dayOff26]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(set: $negChoice to true)You close your eyes, try to picture a portion of the drive home, and feel lost. Some portion of you is still there - in the woods, or maybe under one of those big, flat creek rocks - but you just can't seem to find it. Maybe it's for the best, you think, if you just stopped searching. You still haven't lost the guilt that came with leaving that place behind and seeking the very things that all it's residents were hoping to escape. That's okay, though. Unlike Dad and Sebastian, you don't need that stillness to survive. You inspect yourself in the mirror one more time, making sure that your makeup - simple, but neat - is in order. The warm light being projected on you makes it look strangely faded. Satisfied, you turn to leave the restroom. The door swings shut behind you, and you make your way back to the table. Sebastian anxiously looks up at you as you are getting ready to sit down. Then, he slowly stands up. "I think I'm going to use the restroom, too," he murmurs, straightening his oversized hoodie to the best of his ability. "Oh, okay," you say, just as you finally settle. Seb disappears, and you find yourself looking down at the empty table, searching for flaws on the tablecloth. A waitress soon appears, drawing you out of your brief stupor. It's a different waitress than earlier, and excitingly, she brings with her both of your meals. "Here you go!" she says, setting your plate in front of you before placing Seb's in front of the empty seat on the other side. "Oh, thank you so much!" you reply, concerned more with the food than with her. The waitress, though, hesitates before leaving. "Hey," she says, her workplace persona slipping for a moment, "Nina? Nina Fish, is that you?" [[Confirm your identity.->dayOff25]] [[Ask how she knows you.->dayOff26]]

(display: "NinaHappyImage")You look closely at the waitress, hoping to identify something that would explain her interest in you. She's pretty and cleanly put together, her plain white shirt revealing nothing about her personality. She has an expectant look on her face. Yours, you imagine, is pleasantly confused. "You caught me," you joke, "what did I do?" She emits a soft laugh. "Nothing!" she says, not certain if she should play along or not. "Don't you remember? It's Marie!" After you look at her blankly for a moment, scouring your brain for a match, she continues, "We used to tag-team the drive-through every weekend!" "Oh," you exclaim, the realization hitting you hard: an emotional ache. You and Marie had made fast friends while working together at your first job during college. She had showed you the ropes, and in the short time the two of you were together, you felt like you had known her for your whole life. You had promised to stay in touch after the place shut down. Now you wish you had. Marie smiles, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "So, then," she ventures, gesturing to Seb's plate on the table, "who are you with, if you don't mind me asking?" "My brother, Sebastian, is visiting from back home," you say, eager to continue your conversation with Marie. "Oh," she says, "I didn't know you had a brother." She falls silent, then starts humming, picking up the empty glasses on the table. Before leaving, she looks over her shoulder and says, "I'll leave you two be then. Enjoy, it's good to see you!" It sounds forced. The natural way she had acted around you before is completely gone. You debate whether you should wait on Seb or not before you start eating. Your (if: (history:) contains "dayOff5")[bisque smells](elseif: (history:) contains "dayOff6")[fries smell](else:)[smothered elbow pasta smells] nearly too good to handle. Seb's been gone for a while. [[Eat.->dayOff27]] [[Wait.->dayOff28]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")You look closely at the waitress, hoping to identify something that would explain her interest in you. She's pretty and cleanly put together, her plain white shirt revealing nothing about her personality. She has an expectant look on her face. Yours, you imagine, is startled and confused. Your first thought is that she is a customer from Home Hobby, but you aren't certain. "Sorry, do I know you?" you ask. "You used to work at that fast food restaurant near campus, right?" You're suddenly suspicious. You worked at that dingy chicken shack for only a few months before it closed; it was your first job, and you got it while you were still taking classes. At this point, you figure, most normal people should have forgotten it ever existed. You nod sluggishly. "I did," you say, "why?" "Nina," she says, in a somewhat frustrated tone, "it's Marie!" After you look at her blankly for a moment, scouring your brain for a match, she continues, "We used to tag-team the drive-through every weekend!" "Oh," you exclaim, the realization hitting you hard: an emotional ache. You and Marie had made fast friends while working together. She had showed you the ropes, and in the short time the two of you were together, you felt like you had known her for your whole life. You had promised to stay in touch after the place shut down. Now you wish you had. After your delayed recognition, Marie's face takes a quick turn from excitement to disappointment. "So, then," she ventures, gesturing to Seb's plate on the table, "who are you with, if you don't mind me asking?" "My brother, Sebastian, is visiting from back home," you say, eager to continue your conversation with Marie. "Oh," she says, "I didn't know you had a brother." Then, she falls silent, picking up the empty glasses on the table. Before leaving, she looks over her shoulder and says, "enjoy," and, for a moment, you feel cold. You debate whether you should wait on Seb or not before you start eating. Your (if: (history:) contains "dayOff5")[bisque](elseif: (history:) contains "dayOff6")[fries](else:)[smothered elbow pasta] smells nearly too good to handle. Seb's been gone for a while. [[Eat.->dayOff27]] [[Wait.->dayOff28]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")You pull your (if: (history:) contains "dayOff5")[bowl](else:)[plate] closer, so that you can feel the heat rising off of it on your face. Shaking out your napkin, you get ready to eat. You're the slower eater, so you figure it would be a good idea to get started first, anyway. Besides, there's no use in both of your meals getting cold before you get the chance to even try yours. You (if: (history:) contains "dayOff5")[wield your spoon with one hand, bracing the bowl with the other, before taking a generous scoop of the thick, orange soup and breathing in the aroma. Tasting it, you're unsure how it could possibly be worth paying double the price for something else on the menu. It's creamy, delicate, and indescribably savory.](elseif: (history:) contains "dayOff6")[think about using your fork, but come to the conclusion that there is only so much you can forgo when it comes to creature comforts, and warm french fries cross a definitive line. So, you delicately grip three of the thin, gleaming potato bits between your fingers and eagerly lead them to your mouth without bothering to apply the malty, housemade ketchup or tartar sauce. The fries taste different, like they were prepared using some obscure mixture of oils. Regardless, french fries could never be wrong by you. Taking note of the size and texture of the fish, you wipe your hands and pick up your fork, after all.](else:)[grip your fork and inspect your meal. It's smaller than you had expected for the price, but it's piled high with a generous amount of lobster, and there's a side of veggies. Skewing a few noodles and taking care not to preemptively scoop up too much of the delicate topping, you take a bite. The taste of the cheese hits you first. It's nothing like the powder-based cheddar imposter that you had come to expect from mac n' cheese. Each noodle is filled with a cheese that you can't identify, and it complements the lobster so perfectly that you wouldn't have been surprised to hear that it was created simply for that purpose.] You are just preparing to take another bite, when Seb returns and unceremoniously takes his seat. "Couldn't wait?" he asks, situating his plate for optimum steak-cutting leverage. Seb forgoes the side salad completely, arming himself with his steaknife and fork. The steak is barely visible under the mountain of prawns and other aquatic miscellany. "Would you?" you retort. He chuckles. "Fair enough." He brings his knife down for the initial cut, and the two of you spend a few moments doing nothing but enjoying your meals. After a moment, Seb says through his food, "Life is so different here." You shake your head, focusing on the feeling of the food in your mouth. "Not really," you say after you swallow. You realize that he's right, but you wish he wouldn't say it. "It is, though," he insists. "I mean, don't you ever get tired of walking on concrete all the time? And all the cars?" [[Keep eating, and listen.->dayOff30]] [[Admit you do, and that you could appreciate a break.->dayOff29]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")You leave your plate where it is, eyeing it hungrily, but thinking that Seb might appreciate it if you wait. You can smell it from here, though, and it's heavenly. It's a small courtesy, and one that may well go unnoticed, but this feels like such a special occasion that you don't want to risk ruining it further with something that a little self-control could prevent. You sit there in silence for a moment before Seb returns and unceremoniously takes his seat. "You haven't started eating?" he asks, situating his plate for optimum steak-cutting leverage, "What's wrong, are you sick?" You pull your food closer and get ready to eat. Seb forgoes the side salad completely, wasting no time in arming himself with his steaknife and fork. The steak is barely visible under the mountain of prawns and other aquatic miscellany. "I was trying to be polite," you respond. He chuckles. "Yep. You're definitely sick." He brings his knife down for the initial cut, and the two of you spend a few moments doing nothing but enjoying your meals. After a moment, Seb says through his food, "Life is so different here." You shake your head, focusing on the feeling of the food in your mouth. "Not really," you say after you swallow. You realize that he's right, but you wish he wouldn't say it. "It is, though," he insists. "I mean, don't you ever get tired of walking on concrete all the time? And all the cars?" [[Keep eating, and listen.->dayOff30]] [[Admit you do, and that you could appreciate a break.->dayOff29]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")Sebastian shakes his head solemnly and tears another bite-sized morsel off of his steak. You pause for a long moment before eating any more. Seb, however, refuses to slow down, eating and talking like a man just rescued from weeks alone and hungry in the wilderness. "It would drive me crazy," he continues. "Being here for just a few days has been stressing me out." "You get used to it," you say. "I'm not sure that I would want to," he grumbles, "especially not by myself." He puts a crustacean in his mouth. "Just because you get used to being stressed doesn't mean you aren't stressed. You definitely are." You (if: (history:) contains "dayOff5")[scoop](else:)[shovel] more food into your mouth, processing it carefully. [[See where Seb is going.->dayOff31]] [[Let him know that you get his point.->dayOff29]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")Sebastian seems to have a break in his train of thought, and you interject. "Seb-" you try to say, but he interrupts you. "When was the last time," he says, "that you felt your ears pop?" You're caught off guard by the question. "When I flew back from Miami on spring break," you say, spitting out the first thing that comes to mind. Seb shakes his head, disappointed. "That doesn't count," he says. "That pressure isn't natural. It's not the same." He trails off, and instead of immediately following up on that comment, he lifts the last bit of his steak into his mouth, chews, and swallows. "Sebastian, just-" "Every day," he asserts, "my ears pop twice. Once when I leave, and once when I go home. There's something about it that I can't ignore. When I make that trip and I don't feel that pop, something is wrong. It's - oh, I don't know - a relief? Here, you don't get that. Never. I don't know how you-" "Seb," you snap, louder than expected. You're sure that the volume was bothersome to some of the people nearby, but you don't really care. "I'm taking you home tomorrow." (link: "End.")[(goto: "Ch4")]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")Sliding the next bite off of the end of his fork, Seb gestures with it towards the window. "What if you wanted to open the window for some fresh air?" he asks, not caring about your answer. "You get berated with noise, that's what." His knife scrapes the plate under his entree, creating a harsh screech, the unexpectedness of which triggers a moment of startled panic. He's nearly halfway through his meal, and you've barely had time to touch yours. "At home, there's just birds. It's so nice." "There are birds here, too," you frankly respond. You begin to wonder how long he plans to continue this tirade. "I never really knew how beautiful that place was when I was little," Seb states. "I guess I didn't really have anything to compare it to back then." [[Continue to listen.->dayOff32]] [[Let him know that you get his point.->dayOff29]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")(either: "Seb nibbles on a piece of broccoli at a moment between bites, then sets it back down on the plate without finishing it. \"Do you remember that time my friend Harvey hiked over to our house in the middle of the night and took us frog hunting?\" he asks, knowing full well that you do. You nod, and he continues, \"Man, I still don't know how we got out of the house without Dad waking up,\" he takes a drink of water to forget the taste of the broccoli, \"Now that I think about it, he probably just didn't care. We had so much fun though,\" he smiles at the memory, \"at least until you fell into the pond.\" \"We should have brought a flashlight,\" you confirm. \"Yeah,\" he says, \"we were pretty dumb.\"" ,"Seb swallows a bite and takes a moment to appreciate it and gather his thoughts, leaning back in his chair and watching you. \"There sure were a lot of weird caves in the woods past Dad's shed. The further we hiked, it seemed like the more of them there were,\" he says, his eyes partially glazing over as he tries to piece together the memory. \"It's been forever since I've been back there. You know, I bet they aren't as scary as we thought they were.\" He leans forward again and shifts his shoulders. \"It was probably smart that we were too chicken to go into any of them. Snakes and all that.\" You shrug indifferently, but remember those caves fondly. Some part of you would love to go back to those places and confront the things that terrified you when you were small." ,"Seb pulls the end of a prawn's tail out of his mouth that seems to have been mistakenly left in the food. He doesn't mind, though; he scrapes the gristly carapace onto the side of his plate and continues to eat and talk. \"You probably don't get bored here, at least,\" he asserts, wiping his tongue across his teeth to check for more undesirables. \"We used to sit around for hours, just trying to come up with something to do besides chores. \"You always had the best ideas, too.\" Before you have the chance to ask him what it's like having to think for himself, he answers. \"I've had to work hard to adjust to coming up with my own shenanigans, you know.\"") You stir your food around, and Seb keeps digging into his. You can see his mind working while he chews, thinking, remembering, and when necessary, fabricating. (either: "[[Focus on eating.->dayOff32]]", "[[Let his enthusiasm continue.->dayOff32]]","[[Sigh and continue hearing him out.->dayOff32]]","[[Eat and listen.->dayOff32]]","[[See how long it will take for him to lose momentum.->dayOff32]]") [[Tell him what's on your mind.->dayOff29]]

<div class="chapter_header">[[The Drive->driveHome1]]</div>

(display: "NinaCarImage")(display: "SebCarImage")You move your foot from the gas pedal to the brake hesitantly as you begin to approach a particularly strenuous turn in the road ahead. You slow just enough to avoid violently throwing you and your passenger against the side of the car. Sliding around the curve, the road begins to slope gently upward, delivering you to the next turn perceivable at the end of the tree-lined alley. You glance at the other seat and see Seb still staring out the window. He seems relaxed, and has an immovable smile on his face. (if: (history:) contains "negSeb")[You think about taking the next curve hard on purpose, to smack that smile off onto the glass. You can't stand how proud he looks.](elseif: (history:) contains "posSeb")[You're glad that he's in a good mood. If each of you was being followed by a black cloud, the air in the cab would suffocate you both.] He notices you. "Are you excited yet?" he breathily asks, giving you a cheeky grin. [[Yes.->driveHome2]] [[No.->driveHome3]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(display: "SebCarImage")Truthfully, you're more nervous than you are excited. But, you imagine, nervousness is its own brand of excitement. "Yeah, I suppose that I am," you say, keeping your eyes on the road out of necessity. Seb seems satisfied, leaning back and continuing to look out the window. You're surprised at how naturally you have been able to remember the route home. It's all been due to instinct. (if: (history:) contains "negHome")[Somehow, you still feel lost.] All the trees and all the curves seem to look the same, but as you inch closer, it all seems to be part of some strange, coherent whole in which you are fully immersed. Up ahead is a human-made clearing on the right side of the road. Seb bristles at the sight of it and points. "Do you see that, Nina?" he asks, his voice cutting out the raised intonation at the end. "I see it," you flatly reply. "It's the site where they found that gemstone like a thousand years ago," he says, "they've still got that marker there for tourists. Every so often someone asks me to shuttle them up here to see it." "It was in the 1860s," you note. (link: "Stop at historical site.")[(goto: "historicalSite1")] [[Keep driving.->driveHome4]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(display: "SebCarImage")You can't hide the dread that you feel, especially from Seb. Besides, you're sure that he already knows the answer, and is just asking to hear you say it. "Nope," you flatly say, keeping your eyes on the road straight ahead. The curves and indentations in the road come up so frequently that it's necessary to stay fully vigilant. Also, you don't want to look at Seb. It's been something of a struggle for you to remember where to turn and what feels natural. The instinct has started to leave you, and you feel lost. However, you don't want to admit that to Seb. (if: (history:) contains "posHome")[This path, though, holds an appeal for you that can't be ignored.] All the trees and all the curves seem to look the same, but as you inch closer, it all seems to be part of some strange, coherent whole in which you are fully immersed. Up ahead is a human-made clearing on the right side of the road. Seb bristles at the sight of it and points. "Do you see that, Nina?" he asks, his voice cutting out the raised intonation at the end. "I see it," you flatly reply. "It's the site where they found that gemstone like a thousand years ago," he says, "they've still got that marker there for tourists. Every so often someone asks me to shuttle them up here to see it." "It was in the 1860s," you note. (link: "Stop at historical site.")[(goto: "historicalSite1")] [[Keep driving.->driveHome4]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebHappyImage")You consider driving past (if: (history:) contains "negSeb")[just because Seb wants you to stop](elseif: (not (history:) contains "historicalSite1") and (not (history:) contains "launchSite1") and (not (history:) contains "gasStation1"))[because you have no interest in seeing the sights], but you would be lying to yourself if you tried to pretend like you didn't want some fresh air. You turn onto the glorified shoulder that is the overlook, and come to a halt between two parking spots near the guard rail. Together, you and Seb make your way to the edge, to stand at the observation point farthest from the road. There is a raised platform that you don't hesitate to climb, increasing your distance from the road, the car, and solid ground. The pressure in your ears increases noticeably as you near the top, having reached some particular threshold of elevation. Seb follows you and leans as far out as the railing will allow, ignoring the bleached signs warning against doing just that. There's a display next to him with information about the point, but the sun has faded it beyond being legible. Only the most lost of tourists would ever have read it, anyway, and they are nowhere to be seen. You follow Seb's lead and lean over the railing. In front of you is splayed out a familiar landscape. You're high above the town, which from this angle is stealthily nested among the mountains. There are four prominent peaks that you can see, all of which you crossed on your way here, and none of which you can name except for the one you are on. Mount Phrixus: a name much more interesting than it deserves. You can see a surprising amount of detail among the trees across the valley. There is a house perfectly on the crest of one mountain, and near it is a distinct halo of flowering trees. Closer, you see what appears to be a tree stand, isolated, but poorly hidden. There's a single windmill on another mountaintop. Anything further is obscured by a gradient purple haze. Seb breathes deeply. Then, he turns to stare at you until you take closer notice. When you make eye contact, he does it again, melodramatically. Not getting the desired response, he breathes in one more time, pulling his arm inward, then outward with his breath, expectantly nodding at you as he exhales. [[Take a deep breath.->overlook2]] [[Ask Seb what he thinks you should do.->overlook3]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebCarImage")You glance down at your fuel gauge and see that it's sitting uneasily around half-full. You stopped for fuel at the last major city you drove through, which, since you took a scenic route, was about fifty miles out. The gauge has proven over the years to be unreliable, though, and always rounds up. You figure that you don't want to push it, since you have to to get Seb home and safely make it back to that same checkpoint. "Good idea," you say, slapping your turn signal even though there are no cars behind or immediately in front of you. You swing into the gas station and easily find a spot next to the pump for your car. Popping open the door, you exit and are pleasantly surprised to see that there are card readers on the pumps. "Our little town is getting pretty high-tech," you say at Seb, who is still lounging in the car. "Huh?" he voices. "Nothing." Before you start getting gas, you look towards the attached convenience store that you had probably been inside of a thousand times prior with your Dad. There aren't many places in town for cashier jobs, and all of them are always occupied by the current batch of young adults, so you figure there is a good chance someone you know is inside. You don't particularly want to be seen and have the rumor mill start turning, but still, you're curious. [[Go inside.->gasStation2]] [[Pay at the pump.->gasStation3]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebHappyImage")The narrow, nearly-hidden dirt road leading to Cricket Point approaches, "Let's stop and check it out," you say, already slowing down to a near-stop in order to make the turn. 'Okay, sure," Seb says, "that could be fun." He's smiling, but he sounds somewhat suspicious at your interest. You slowly drive down the dirt road, occasionally swerving for potholes or squirrels. It's so narrow that if a vehicle happened to be headed the other direction, you would certainly have to ease partly into the ditch to let them around. Once you close the modest elevation gap, the trees give way to a small field, scattered around which are various camping sites, some occupied, some empty. There is a parking lot further on, and you gently come to a stop a safe distance from a trailer-laden shuttle bus. The trailer is half-full of canoes, all securely tied to the worn rack with well-practiced knots and bungee cords. On the side of each of the canoes is a white decal identifying them as belonging to Barron Outfitters of Canoes and Kayaks: BOCK. Seb hops out of he car, and you do the same. You look up at the trailer contents, illuminated by the sun shining through from the other side. "Do you work for BOCK?" you ask him, shielding your eyes from the sun with one hand. "Nah," Seb replies, briskly walking past the trailer but turning around to inspect it regardless, "they wouldn't have me. I'm with Randy's Canoe Rental." He gestures towards the other shuttle bus at the other side of the parking lot. The trailer is shorter than BOCK's, and it's empty. A moment later, a figure emerges from the direction of the bank. It's a man, shirtless, with a canoe flipped over his head. The canoe is dripping water behind him as he walks, and his face is fully concealed by the hollow, green vessel. Seb bounds over to him and says so that you can hear, "Hey, Jarett!" "One sec, Seb," you hear, resonant and muffled from under the canoe. The boat ape walks confidently up to the trailer, his sandals providing just enough traction necessary to conquer the sand and gravel. He slides it off of his shoulders and onto one of the bottom rungs of the rack, making sure it's stable before straightening his back and looking at Seb. "I thought you were off today," he says, matter-of-factly. "Nina," Sebastian says, "you remember Jarett Hines? From high school? Come say hi!" [[Greet Jarett.->launchSite2]] [[Head down to the bank.->launchSite3]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebHappyImage")You start to slow down, and Seb gives you a sideways glance, confused. "What are you doing?" he asks. "I don't know," you say, pulling the car over into the modest shoulder near the historical marker. "Let's check out the marker. I haven't been here in ages." From here, you can't see it. You suspect that it's hidden carefully among the overgrown weeds populating the small clearing. You put the car in park. "Cool," Seb says, immediately unlatching his seat belt and opening the door. You follow suit, popping open the door with some effort and walking slowly around the hood. The grass all around the marker is brightly lit, a focal point for all of the light trying to filter through the leaves of the trees around it. Seb, starting out of your reach to the right, doesn't hesitate to begin wading through the brush. He cleaves a path, leaving the tall grass behind him bent and in places, broken. There is a trail behind him of faded yellow. "I see something sticking out up here, Nina! I think it's the marker." You look around, and you think you see the marker sticking out, too. But it's closer to the far side of the clearing than to where Seb is headed. [[Follow Seb.->historicalSite2]] [[Go towards the marker that you see.->historicalSite3]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(display: "SebCarImage")(if: (history:)'s last is "driveHome2" or (history:)'s last is "driveHome3")[You glide past the clearing, re-entering the canopy of oaks, maples, pines, the occasional flowering cherry, and others whose names you've never bothered to learn. Seb turns his head to follow the clearing until it's out of sight, looking for the stone marker that is nearly overgrown with unkempt weeds. You keep driving, and t](else:)[You return to the car, wait for Seb to do the same, and keep driving. T]he scenery gradually starts to change. The trees break on the road to your left, opening up to make way for a steep, leaf-covered drop. There is a flimsy, battered guard rail separating the road from what's beyond. Making it a bit further, you see that at the bottom of the drop is a thin river bank, the water below moving in the opposite direction as you. "Up ahead is the turn for Cricket Point," Seb observes. "It's one of my favorite spots for launch, because ever since that big flood pushed up the bank last year, I can drive really close to the water. Makes for less heavy lifting." You had been to Cricket Point once or twice, but had never canoed from there. Dad always preferred the ones further upstream, so those were the ones that you used. You can see the access bank from the road, and there are a few groups of people there, either getting ready to start their trip or stumbling out of their boats onto dry land. There are a few vehicles in a parking lot that is a lot closer to the water than you remember, some of which are tailed by familiar-looking trailers stacked high with green, orange, and purple canoes. The water is low, but the weather is perfect, you imagine, outside your tightly-sealed windows. (link: "Stop at the launch site")[(goto: "launchSite1")] [[Keep driving.->driveHome5]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(display: "SebCarImage")(if: (history:)'s last is "driveHome4")[The narrow, nearly-hidden dirt road leading to Cricket Point approaches, then speeds past, then trails behind you. "I wonder if Jarett is down there shuttling today," Seb ponders, looking back towards the point as much as his seat belt allows. "Jarett Hines?" you ask, picturing one of Seb's scruffy friends from high school, who never got caught but everyone knew he was a pot head. He nods. "The very same." (if: (history:) contains "negHome")["Is he still a burn out?" you ask tepidly. "I'm surprised to hear that he's doing this sort of grunt work." Seb says nothing. ]You continue making deliberate movements down the winding road, yawing left, then right, as the terrain requires. You begin to remember some conversations that you had with Jarett on the school bus. Particularly, you remember thinking that he was too smart for this place, even when you were young. It's all too easy, though, to become trapped, unable to muster the courage to escape. Jarett is living proof of that. "He got married to that eccentric Erikson chick," Seb eventually (if: (history:) contains "negHome")[grumbles](else:)[continues]. "They have a baby on the way." "Oh," you say, twisting your left hand around the steering wheel. Y](else:)[You turn the car around before driving up, out, and away from Cricket Point. Then you continue on your path, making deliberate movements down the winding road, yawing left, then right, as the terrain requires. Soon, y]ou start seeing fewer trees and more barns. Then, the barns give way to a steep downward crook in the road. At the bottom, you see buildings: a decrepit library, a breakfast diner, the chamber of commerce. "Do you need gas?" Seb asks, and at that moment a worn red and white sign appears, advertising gas prices that are solidly twenty percent higher than what you're used to. "Now might be a good time to stop, if so." (link: "Stop at the gas station.")[(goto: "gasStation1")] [[Keep driving.->driveHome6]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(display: "SebCarImage")(if: (history:)'s last is "driveHome5")[You glance down at your fuel gauge and see that it's sitting comfortably somewhere around half-full. You stopped for fuel at the last major city you drove through, which, since you took a scenic route, was about seventy miles out. The gauge has proven over the years to be unreliable, though, and always rounds down. You figure that you will have enough gas to get Seb home and safely make it back to that same checkpoint. "Nah," you say, and drive on.] You make your way though town, trying not to pay too close attention to the places or the people that you pass. Without even looking closely enough to confirm your suspicions, you know that nothing has really changed. Because of that, you feel less at home than ever. Half way to the city hall, you make a left turn towards another mountain and more woods. The drive is steep, but it had long since served as your training ground. Your car struggles, but it climbs up the mountain like it had something to prove to the pickup trucks headed the other direction into town. You can feel pressure building in your ears, muting the car's - or maybe Seb's - determined humming. You pass many driveways and side road entrances before being confronted with a low, broad sign near the road claiming the graveled, fenced-off area as "Horizon Overlook." You're near the top of the mountain, and the overlook provides a carefully unobstructed view of the town below and the valley beyond. "We should stop," Seb says authoritatively, "I can tell this is weird for you. Maybe we should take a break from driving." "But we're almost there," you say, watching the sign as the overlook gets closer. "Exactly." (link: "Stop at the overlook.")[(goto: "overlook1")] [[Keep driving.->driveHome7]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(display: "SebCarImage")(if: (history:)'s last is "driveHome6")[You decide against stopping at the overlook, partly because you were approaching the turn too fast, (if: (history:) contains "negSeb")[partly because Seb said you should, ]and partly because you just want to get this over with so that you can return to your apartment and spend some time with Matata in peace. ](else:)[You step down from the platform and head towards the car without waiting to see if Seb is following you. He is, of course, and gets in the passenger seat shortly after you. ]After five minutes of driving in silence, the main road degrades into dirt, and that's when you know you're getting close. There's a modest, dusty sign right at the edge of the asphalt dubbing the area as Mount Randall. The road continues for something like a quarter-mile, and then you take a side path. The road gets so rough that you have to slow to a near stop to avoid driving off of the edge at a hazardous corner, which seems to have been damaged by some sort of landslide. Seb gives you neither directions nor warnings. Somehow, though, you make it to your destination alive. The first thing you see is that weird tree on the right side of the road, which at first glance now seems dead. (if: (history:) contains "negHome")[It's standing, but precariously; its deformed shape even more grotesque than you remember, thanks to the beginnings of rot in the trunk and the army of shattered branch-stumps looming over the driveway.] You pull up next to it, stopping in the exact same spot that Dad always used to park. The house looks dead, too. It has a wooden porch, but it's full of so many holes that it only provides a narrow path to the door. The rest is storage for old, tarp-covered, unusable furniture that seem to be fused to the boards. The door itself has a broken screen, and the nearest windows are sealed tightly shut. The aluminum roof is rusted and bare. There are no decorations, except for a tattered American flag tethered to one side of the porch and a series of broken Christmas lights dangling off of the side of the west side of the house. Around the corner, you see Seb's garden. It's fenced-in and orderly, without any visible weeds. The yard around it, however, is unkempt and overgrown. (if: (history:) contains "historicalSite1")[It reminds you of that historical site: a forgotten treasure by the side of the road.] Seb taps his hand on the console. "Well, we made it," he says, melancholic. He doesn't immediately open the door, and neither do you. He smiles, first at you, and then out the window. Maybe at the garden. A bird chirps. Seb breathes. "So, do you want to come in and see Dog, maybe watch something on TV?" (if: not((history:) contains "dayOff5") or (history:) contains "posSeb")[[[Thank Seb for the last few days.->driveHome8]] ](if: (((history:) contains "posHome") or ((history:) contains "intro17")) and ($afterWorkTension < $afterWorkThreshold))[[[Go in.->driveHome9]] ](if: $negChoice or ($afterWorkTension >= $afterWorkThreshold))[[[Decline.->driveHome10]] ](else:)[[[Decline.->driveHome11]] ](if: $isLate or (history:) contains "negHome")[[[Admit that you would rather just head back.->driveHome12]] ](if: (($hasBrunch) or ((history:) contains "afterWork29") or ((history:) contains "afterWork39")) and (((history:) contains "posHome") or ((history:) contains "posSeb")))[[[Ask to see the garden.->driveHome13]] ](if: (history:) contains "posDad")[[[Leave to visit Dad.->driveHome14]] ](if: (((history:) contains "posSeb") and not ((history:) contains "negHome")) or $offeredOrange)[[[Apologize.->driveHome15]]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")You smile back at him, cocking your head to the side to make sure he sees it. You don't want to answer his question. Of course you would like to see Dog, but you've already seen enough of that house. Your imagination has filled in all of the gaps between the boards and the tiny cracks in many of the front-facing windows. You imagine that it's much nicer on the inside: clean, well-kept, and modern. Dog's cage, situated on a wooden stand near the sleek living room couch, is spotless due to his lack of time spent there. The walls are white with nature-patterned wallpaper trim. A vacuum sits in the corner, resting from when it was used just the other day. You're happy with that image. Seb looks at you expectantly, and you feel guilty. He had made the effort to see you, and taken you out to a nicer meal than any of your boyfriends ever had. You're just not sure that you could handle your predictions being wrong. "Seb," you say, hesitantly, "thank you so much." You don't have to say what for. "Yeah," he says, simply. "Yeah." Sebastian leans back into the passenger seat. He seems to be thinking very carefully about what he could possibly say to change your mind. After a moment of staring straight ahead through the windshield, he places one hand on the seatbelt release, and the other on the door handle. The door swings open, and his feet follow. Before the door shuts behind him, though, he turns his head to murmur, "This is your home, Nina. You know that you're welcome here." The car door shuts gently behind him: too gently to properly seal. You watch Seb go. He strides along the dirt path leading to the porch, then carefully walks up the rickety stairs, placing his feet in a practiced pattern to get him safely to the door. Without him, the car is eerily silent. You have a hard time mustering the effort to lean over into the space that he just left to push the door open and pull it violently shut. It's open enough that you begin to feel a breeze finding its way though, penetrating the processed space of the cab. You feel it on the side of your face, and realize then that you can the pressure in your ears still hasn't released, building steadily since you starting driving among the mountains. Irritated, you pull on both of your ear lobes to no avail. You grind your teeth, trying to replicate the motion you would make when chewing something soft(if:(history:) contains "dayOff7")[, like the memory of lobster mac n' cheese from the Rogue Salmon]. You start to feel helpless, and find yourself wishing that Seb stayed in the car just a few minutes more. He didn't have to say anything, since you would have a hard time hearing him right now anyway. You just want him to fill the seat next to you. It's still warm, but you don't dare touch it, even just to make sure. You don't want to drive while being tormented by the pressure, the pain of which seems to only get worse the more you try to relieve it. So, you sit in the car, hands on the wheel, that weird tree hovering over you, and you wait.

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebHappyImage")Seb is smirking at you and your mouth pops open, reflexively preparing to say "no." (if: (not (history:) contains "posHome"))[You had hoped that he wouldn't ask, even if the idea of a silent goodbye now seems ludicrous.](if: (history:) contains "posHome")[You had hoped he would ask. Despite your consistent outward denial of this place, there's something magnetic drawing you to the front door.] The familiarity of it all scares you and excites you. You want to go in. You wish that you didn't. His eye twitches when he notices your hesitation. You wrinkle your chin, opening your mouth once more as if trying to figure out the words that you need to say. Then, "Okay. Sure." "Sounds good!" Seb says, nodding triumphantly, "I promise you don't have to stay long." You pull the key out of the ignition, and the two of you step out and away from the car. Looking back at it from a few paces away, it looks uncannily comfortable under the mangled tree. Seb leads the way to the front porch, kicking up dust before bounding up the set of stairs, the top of which he seems to be avoiding on account of the foot-sized hole through its center. You follow, but slower, turning to look around the sandy, mimosa-flower strewn yard. On the far side of the tree to your right is a shiny, newish charcoal grill that seems to be functional. Beyond is an abandoned mountain bike. You could swear you remember when Seb got it from Mom on his thirteenth birthday, only to ride it once to show his appreciation before leaving it to gather rust in Dad's yard. You lose count of the number of beer cans and scraps of metal. Near the porch, you see what appears to be a sun-bleached soccer ball, rendered useless by the heat. You brave the stairs, stepping deliberately down on each one, careful to avoid the largest cracks and holes. They squeak in dissonance, and your ears respond with a sharp ache. Seb says something, but you don't hear, opting instead to rub the spaces between your ears and your temples with both hands. Seb holds the door for you. You step past him and onto thick, familiar, orange-and-red shag carpet. You are greeted with a shrill squawk emanating from a white-crested angry face leaning around an archway into the kitchen on the far side of the living area. "Hey Dog, look who it is!" Seb projects across the room, as if Dog was a child and you were a parent coming home from deployment. He walks purposefully towards the decorative divide, and Dog disappears behind it as he does. There is a lamp in the other room that was on when you got here, and the curtainless windows light the way enough for you to cautiously follow, passing the single clean armchair in front of the TV, and then another one cluttered with cans and DVD cases. The rest of the place is surprisingly clean, with almost everything sitting in what appears to be their rightful place. There is a hallway to your left and you can see yellow light leaking through, a side-window framing green and gold and pink and orange just beyond. [[Ask Seb if you can see his garden.->driveHome13]] [[Go through the archway and find Seb.->driveHome16]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(display: "SebIrritatedImage")You look away rather than return his smile. In front of you is nothing but green, since this house is one of the last on this road. Sebastian wants you to come inside with the hope that some sort of nostalgia for dust and disarray will help you to remember why you used to be able to find something there to be proud of. But this isn't your childhood home, or Seb's: it's Old Sal's shady bootlegger shack. Your hope is that Seb has made it better, but even his melancholy enthusiasm doesn't have the power to change what it is. More than anything, you just don't want to. You weren't expecting Seb to show up asking for a favor, and you never would have made this trip if it wasn't for him. You're already tired of this place, and are ready to leave as soon as possible. (if: (history:) contains "posSeb")[You nearly do it anyway, just for Seb. But you don't.] "No, Seb," you say, wearily. "I'm going to head out." The hope drains from his face. "Oh," he says. You see something in him start to ignite, and he hurriedly unsnaps his seat belt before swinging open the door. He jumps out, keeping one hand on the frame and turning to face you, leaning down to see into the cab. "You know what, Nina," he fumes, knuckles white, "I tried. I really did. But I don't really care if you come back again or not." The car door slams shut, and the sound takes ages to fade into a humming near-silence. Distracted by it, you don't look out the window to watch Seb go until the door of the house snaps behind him. The sound is loud enough to restart the vibration in the cab. The sound is distressing, and you begin to suspect that it's due to the pressure that has been building in your ears since you started driving among the mountains. Irritated, you pull on both of your ear lobes to no avail. You grind your teeth, trying to replicate the motion you would make when chewing something soft(if:(history:) contains "dayOff7")[, drawing on the memory of lobster mac n' cheese]. You start to feel helpless, (if: (history:) contains "posSeb")[and find yourself wishing that Seb stayed in the car just a few minutes more. He didn't have to say anything, since you would have a hard time hearing him right now anyway. You just want him to fill the seat next to you. It's still warm, but you don't dare touch it, even just to make sure.](else:)[and are glad that Seb isn't here to see it. If he hadn't left, he surely would have said more things that you don't want to hear. You prefer him being in there, distant, unaware of your strange issues but thinking about you nonetheless. The silence after the sound makes you more aware of the pressure. Right now you want to feel it.] You don't want to start driving yet. The pressure in your skull turns into pain, worsening as you try to relieve it. So you sit in the car, hands on the wheel, that weird tree hovering over you, and hope that it's worth it when they pop.

(display: "NinaCarImage")(display: "SebIrritatedImage")You smile back, but don't say anything. After your eye-contact grows too long, your smile begins to fade and so does Seb's. You forlornly gaze into his hoodie, the dirt-brown lightened in spots by the sun leaking through the leaves and into the window. You want to say yes. You want to wander through his house and feel something, even if that feeling isn't anywhere close to pride. You look away rather than return his smile. In front of you is nothing but green, since this house is one of the last on this road. Sebastian wants you to come inside with the hope that some sort of nostalgia for dust and disarray will help you to remember why you used to be able to find something there to be proud of. But this isn't your childhood home, or Seb's: it's Old Sal's shady bootlegger shack. Your hope is that Seb has made it better, but even his melancholy enthusiasm doesn't have the power to change what it is. You feel a guilty pull, but you just can't make yourself grip the door handle, push it open, and finish your journey on those front steps. You're already tired of this place, and without wanting to say it, you just freeze. You look back up, knitting your eyebrows adamantly.(if: (history:) contains "posSeb")[ Again, you almost say yes. But you don't.] "No, Seb," you say, wearily. "I'm going to head out." Hope drains from his face. "Oh," he says. You see something in him start to ignite, and he hurriedly unsnaps his seat belt before swinging open the door. He jumps out, keeping one hand on the frame and turning to face you, leaning down to see into the cab. "You know what, Nina," he fumes, knuckles white, "I tried. I really did. But I don't really care if you come back again or not." The car door slams shut, and the sound takes ages to fade into a humming near-silence. Distracted by it, you don't look out the window to watch Seb go until the door of the house snaps behind him. The sound is loud enough to restart the vibration in the cab. The sound is distressing, and you begin to suspect that it's due to the pressure that has been building in your ears since you started driving among the mountains. Irritated, you pull on both of your ear lobes to no avail. You grind your teeth, trying to replicate the motion you would make when chewing something soft(if:(history:) contains "dayOff7")[, drawing on the memory of lobster mac n' cheese]. You start to feel helpless, (if: (history:) contains "posSeb")[and find yourself wishing that Seb stayed in the car just a few minutes more. He didn't have to say anything, since you would have a hard time hearing him right now anyway. You just want him to fill the seat next to you. It's still warm, but you don't dare touch it, even just to make sure.](else:)[and are glad that Seb isn't here to see it. If he hadn't left, he surely would be saying more things that you don't want to hear. You prefer him being in there, distant, unaware of your strange issues but thinking about you nonetheless. The silence after the sound makes you more aware of the pressure. Right now you want to feel it.] You don't want to start driving yet. The pressure in your skull turns into pain, worsening as you try to relieve it. So you sit in the car, hands on the wheel, that weird tree hovering over you, and hope that it's worth it when they pop.

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebIrritatedImage")Seb has been here more recently than you, so he probably knows where he is going. The grassy expanse is also easier to traverse in his wake; the broken leaves and bent stems are much more compliant to being further bent and trod upon. You step into the grass, and become immensely thankful that you remembered to wear practical shoes. Seb wades forward quickly, and you have no problem maintaining a measured distance behind him. Under the two of you, the grass, thistles, and burrs creak and flatten in swaths. The rest of the clearing remains untouched, and, looking around, you wonder what tiny nests and burrows are hidden beneath. Seb stops at a point halfway through the clearing, in front of a nook in the rocky outcropping that continues back to the road. Being behind him and surrounded on all other sides by brush, you aren't sure what he sees. He whips to the left, then to the right, as if searching for something that was just in his grasp. If he had been a foot or so shorter, he might have looked like a prairie mammal who had just heard a warning call. "I swear it was right here," he grumbles, stepping forward so that you can see the area. There's nothing there. It looks like a great spot for a historical marker; there's a break in the brush, the ground is flat, and it's partly protected by the outcropping. With the marker, tourists might be able to imagine the Cricket Point Gem being found right in that spot, a glint of its beauty still showing in the rock. "Well damn," Seb quietly says, clearly disappointed. "I don't know where it could have gone." "Maybe they moved it somewhere that people might actually see it," you suggest. Seb stares at the point on the ground where it could have been. "Doesn't that defeat the purpose?" [[Continue the drive.->driveHome4]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")You're skeptical that Seb saw anything: it's more likely that he is venturing off towards the place where the marker is in his memory, without even bothering to look around before taking off through the grass. So instead of following him, you take off in a different direction, steering towards the clue you see on the other side of the clearing. The brush obstructing your way is proving to be more difficult to navigate than Seb is making it seem, tromping along a few spans to your right. You're grateful that you remembered to wear practical shoes, without which your trek would be nearly impossible. You topple grasses, thistles, and burrs with some difficulty, making slow progress towards your goal. After a few moments of walking, your hear Seb frustratedly exclaim, "Where is it?" You glance towards him and see him snapping back and forth, looking around like a prairie mammal who heard a warning call. He's standing near a short rocky outcropping that continues back to the road. He notices that you aren't following him. "Nina, where are you going?" he asks, raising his voice as best he can without it breaking. "The marker is supposed to be over here." You ignore him and keep trudging through the grass. After taking one more moment to search the nook, he cuts across and heads towards you. He has made it about half of the distance when you reach your goal. The grass clears, centered around a carefully-crafted pile of stones, cemented together and topped with a bronze-colored plaque. As you circle around to inspect it, Seb makes it to you. He looks down at the marker, satisfied. "'At this place in June of 1867, Joseph Zeigler, the doctor who owned this land, discovered the Cricket Point Gem,'" Seb reads, "'Measuring three inches in diameter and later carved to be symmetrically round, the Gem was said to have brought its owner equal parts fame and misfortune. Said to have unmatched sheen, the current location of the Cricket Point Gem is unknown.'" Seb looks at you. "Sounds like a fake," you say. You cock your head to inspect the marker from a different angle. "The marker is definitely less impressive than I remember." Seb shrugs. "Maybe," he says, "but I'm glad we found it." [[Continue the drive.->driveHome4]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebHappyImage")You take a few steps towards the two of them and meekly wave. It's been so long since you've seen Jarett that you don't know how to act. His stern, tan face cracks into a casual smile. He returns your wave. "Oh, Nina! Cool," he says. He stretches his shoulders and puts a hand on his hip. His shorts are dirty, and his face looks tired: he's probably been at work for a while. Recognizing the need to do something to bridge the gap, Seb pats Jarett on the shoulder and says, "How's everything going with the wifey?" He smiles. "She's still getting used to not being an Erickson no more. You'd think the baby would help her get on board, but shoot, she's as much as a handful as him, heh," he says, hooting with laughter at his own joke. Seb laughs along, and you, nervously, do the same. It's strange to see Jarett here, like this. You still remember him as the scruffy pot head who you thought was too smart for this place. Now you can see the anchor keeping him here, growing heavier as more people add their iron to maintain the measured distance from the shore. "So," Jarett says, stretching his shoulders again and turning more towards you, "what brings you back? Just a normal old visit?" "Yeah," you say, "Seb got himself marooned, and I'm getting him back home in one piece." Jarett looks at Seb knowingly. "Ah," he croons, "Johnny P. thought he was going to be slick, huh?" Seb nods, and Jarett continues, "Well, I guess I'll talk to you about that stuff later. All of that stuff we normally talk about." No one responds, and Seb's foot twists in the gravel. Jarett breathes in deeply. "I aught to get to work," he says, "but it's good to see you again, Nina. For real. Drive safe, now!" With a hop and a few energetic steps, Jarett heads back to the bank, presumably to scoop up another canoe for transport. Seb looks at you. "He's a good guy." The two of you head back to the car when you see Jarett coming back your way with arms full of oars. [[Continue the drive.->driveHome5]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")You raise an arm towards Jarett. Even though he looks different, you still just see the scruffy pot head that Seb always hung out with in high school. "Hey, Jarett," you say, starting to walk past them to the river bank, "I'll talk in a bit, I'm gonna walk to the water." Jarett smiles widely. He and Seb immediately dive into a conversation about something that you probably wouldn't have been interested in anyway. You make your way down the small gravel slope, inlaid with barely-visible wooden planks for a marginally improved navigation experience. There are a few groups of people down at the bank, all busy with their own celebrations and preparations. None of them give you any notice, but you still feel out of place without shorts, sandals, sunscreen, life jackets, or beer. You are only vaguely aware of them as you walk slowly towards an unoccupied bit of bank a little ways upstream. Through the soles of your shoes, you can feel each and every rock that you trod upon up to the water, some of which are sharper than you remember. When you get close, you stop and look around. (if: (history:) contains "negHome")[There's trash everywhere: hidden under rocks, tucked into tree knots, and caught on twigs that have been rotting for weeks inside the pool of stagnant water, separate from the main stream, that you decide against approaching. It's no wonder to you that all of the tourists have chosen to be further down. They actually want to enjoy nature.](else:)[There's a stagnant pool of water nearby that is the size of a kiddie pool, full of leaves and twigs that create a distinct layer of rot. You used to wonder at the strange creatures that hid in those pools, and the water spiders that loved to skitter across the musty surface. (if:(history:) contains "posHome")[It had its own calming appeal, even being so close to the ever-moving stream of of the main river nearby.]] You look at the river, and wiggle your feet into the softening slurry of sand and rock as close to the edge as you dare. The blue-green water is milky and shimmering, and you can tell it's moving primarily by the frothy bubbles and occasional floating leaves that slip by at a gentle pace. On the other side is a steep bank, and a thick border of trees, untouched by comparison. When you, Seb, and Dad went floating, you always wanted to stop at the places without gravel banks. He would never let you: those were snake nests, he said. Even then, you know that all of them couldn't possibly be so dangerous. (if:(history:) contains "negDad")[The real reason was just because he said so. Because he didn't want to be bothered to try.] You turn and head back up the bank, where Seb and Jarett are finishing up a conversation. Jarett finishes with something like "...back to work," then passes you on his way back down to the river. He waves at you again, still smiling. "He has to get back to work," Seb says. "I picked up on that." "Wish he could take a break so you guys could catch up. He's a good guy." Seb looks at you. The two of you head back to the car when you see Jarett coming back your way with arms full of oars. [[Continue the drive.->driveHome5]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")You convince yourself that your desire for a soft drink is more powerful than the conflicting one to avoid interacting with anyone from your home town. Shutting the car door behind you, you walk towards the convenience store. Seb stays in the car, and even though you don't look back at him, you know he's looking at you with amused confusion. It takes you two attempts to get through the front door, because, not seeing the bold-lettered "PULL" sign on the door, you try to push it open. Started by it's resistance to budge, you scramble to grab hold of the round metal handle and swing it towards yourself, hurriedly stepping inside. The store is small and organized just as you remember it. To your left are some vending machines filled with knick-knacks kids-eye level, and just past them are tall, bright lottery ticket dispensers covered with swarms of numbers, capital letters, and dollar signs. In front of you is the small, round counter and to the right are three rows filled with snacks, collectibles, and miscellaneous other needs, respectively. There's a bored-looking woman behind the counter with blond hair tucked back into a pony tail. You remember her from school: sitting behind you in English, giving a speech about Jesus at graduation, calling you a bitch for not wanting to go to the homecoming basketball game. Her hair tie is having trouble containing all of her loose hairs, which are finding their way down to her exposed shoulders. You can't remember her name. She looks up from a cell phone when you walk in. "Hi," she says, "can I help you?" "Twenty five on pump one, please." You shove your hand into your pocket and pull out the two disgruntled twenties that were inside, separating them from a lunch receipt and a leftover one dollar bill. The woman takes your money from you with a crooked smile, gives you your change, activates the pump, and looks back down at her phone without another word. You leave the store, remembering to push open the door, and head back to the car. When you get there, you realize that you forgot to get a soda. The pump is ready to go, and after filling up with gas, so are you. [[Continue the drive.->driveHome6]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")Shutting the car door behind you, you approach the pump and the still-new card reader on the front of it. You shove your hand into your pocket, fishing for your credit card hiding among two twenty dollar bills, a one, and a lunch receipt. As you prepare to get the gas going, you start inspecting the convenience store closer and wondering who it is inside. At first you think it's (if: (history:) contains "launchSite3")[that eccentric Erickson chick that you always felt bad for but never had the patience to deal with](else:)[Jarett's wife, a completely changed, less-crazy person than you probably remember]. You quickly rule that out, though, because she's certainly not the type that would work at a place like this if she could help it. No, the person at the counter, you're certain, is someone who was on the basketball team, who never missed church on Sunday, and who, by all of this town's expectations, is happy and successful. Maybe they were married right out of high school, maybe they have kids. Maybe they remember you. Maybe they are glad that you left. You hear the sudden "click" letting you know that your gas tank is full, and the machine spits out a new receipt for you to shove into your pocket. You place the handle back onto the stand with a similar "click." Getting back into the car, you look over at Seb. Seeing you interact with the everyday artifacts of this town seems to make him immensely happy. You settle into your seat and sigh. "Ready?" you ask. "Yeah." [[Continue the drive.->driveHome6]]

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")You switch your mind off for a moment and just breathe. Timing your breath from Seb's cue, you inhale, hold it in for a moment, then release. Seb' lets his arm fall to his side. You take another breath for good measure. "Nina," he says, gently, "what's the big deal?" At first, you have no idea how to answer that question, because you don't know the answer yourself. You think about everything that you and Seb have said to each other over the last few days, and (if:(history:) contains "posSeb")[wish you had more time together to talk about the things that matter(if:(history:) contains "negHome")[, instead of home].](else:)[are suddenly sad that you hadn't seen him in so long.] But you're here now, and in a few short hours you will be rid of him. You have no idea when you will see or hear from him next. You look Seb in the eye and say, "I (if:(history:) contains "negHome")[don't feel like I belong here anymore.](elseif:(history:)contains "posHome")[just wish this place still felt like home.](else:)[don't know.]" He looks back at the spring landscape and sighs. "That's not true." You look at the valley again, too. Everything is green, gray, and golden. "Dad doesn't know you're coming," Seb eventually growls. You begin to look more intently over the edge. He turns. "He doesn't really talk about you anymore." You stare, and come to the realization that everything in the valley seems to be perfectly framed by the corner posts of the platform. You grind your teeth, but your ears still won't pop. [[Continue the drive.->driveHome7]]

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebIrritatedImage")Instead of taking in a deep breath, you sigh, as you've grown accustomed to doing over the last few days. "Seb," you say, "what am I doing?" He turns, leaning his side heavily into the railing. "What are you talking about?" "I just..." you begin to say, trailing off. You think about everything Seb has said to you, and, more importantly, the things you said to yourself. You don't have a very good idea of how you want to answer his question. It occurs to you that it may be a long time before you see Seb after today(if: (history:) contains "posSeb")[, and you want to hug him](elseif: (history:) contains "negSeb")[, and you want to punch him]. You can't figure out what that means. You look him in the eye and say, "I (if:(history:) contains "negHome")[don't feel like I belong here anymore.](elseif:(history:)contains "posHome")[just wish this place still felt like home.](else:)[don't know.]" He looks back at the spring landscape and sighs. "That's not true." You look at the valley again, too. Everything is green, gray, and golden. "Dad doesn't know you're here," he eventually growls. You begin to look more intently over the edge. Seb turns. "He doesn't really talk about you anymore." You stare, and come to the realization that everything in the valley seems to be perfectly framed by the corner posts of the platform. You grind your teeth, but your ears still won't pop. [[Continue the drive.->driveHome7]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(display: "SebIrritatedImage")You give Seb a sad smile in return. You don't want to answer his question. Of course you want to see Dog; you desperately want to leave the car out here, unlocked, while you tease the poor bird and quiz him over all the terrible songs and turns of phrase that you taught him as a kid. You can already imagine, though, what the inside of the house looks like. It's all beige and brown and burgundy, with a single, torn, ancient couch in the livng room. In front of it is a coffee table, piled up with dishes and old magazines. A bit further is a TV, nearly-always on and at least three years past its obsolescence. Dog's cage is in another room somewhere, but it's rarely used, the old bird opting instead to occupy the couch, or a dusty bookshelf, or the TV. The table-less dining room has another, similar couch, and next to it is a pile of boxes, divided up with cardboard and full of various glass bottles and aluminum cans. You don't want to see Seb living in a place like that, removing all room in your mind for imagination and any hope for something better. "To be completely honest, Seb," you enunciate, Seb's smile fading with each syllable, "I'm tired. I just want to go back home." Sebastian leans back into the passenger seat. He seems to be thinking very carefully about what he could possibly say to change your mind. After a moment of staring straight ahead through the windshield, he places one hand on the seatbelt release, and the other on the door handle. The door swings open, and his feet follow. Before the door shuts behind him, though, he turns his head to grumble, "This is your home, Nina." The slam of the car door, needing a great deal of encouragement to properly seal shut, takes ages to fade into a humming near-silence. Distracted by it, you don't look out the window to watch Seb go until the door of the house shuts behind him. The sound is loud enough to restart the distracting vibrations in the cab that you suspect is due to the pressure that has been building in your ears since you started driving among the mountains. Irritated, you pull on both of your ear lobes to no avail. You grind your teeth, trying to replicate the motion you would make when chewing something soft(if:(history:) contains "dayOff7")[, drawing on the memory of lobster mac n' cheese]. You start to feel helpless, and find yourself wishing that Seb stayed in the car just a few minutes more. He didn't have to say anything, since you would have a hard time hearing him right now anyway. You just want him to fill the seat next to you. It's still warm, but you don't dare touch it, even just to make sure. You don't want to drive while being tormented by the pressure, the pain of which seems to only get worse the more you try to relieve it. So you sit in the car, hands on the wheel, that weird tree hovering over you, and you wait.

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebHappyImage")(if:(history:)'s last is "driveHome7")[Without hesitation, you look at Seb, smile, and shake your head. "No," you say, "I don't really want to go inside. It's a house. I'm sure it's nice." He knits his eyebrows, ready to protest. You don't let him. His mouth opens and you continue, "What I really want to see is this garden that you seemed so excited about. It's over there, right?" You point your finger and Seb's head snaps around to follow it, angling above the dash like the green, bobbing tomato plant you can see distinctly from here.It's having trouble resisting the breeze while bearing a single, bright fruit. Seb's face is softer when he looks back at you. "Yeah, sure," he says, "it's doing really well this year. Presuming no damned deer demolished anything while I was gone." He pulls hastily on the door handle, prompting you to waste no time in doing the same at risk of a sudden change of heart. When you step out of the car onto the beige gravel, you feel the same breeze that disturbed the plant. Seb is already leading the way, and you begin to walk not towards him, but the garden. You pay little attention to your surroundings on the way there, because it all seems familiar to you. Scraps of metal, abandoned tools, chewed-on bones and beer cans. The transition between the yard and the garden is a sudden one. There is a four-foot tall rabbit fence beginning at the back corner, and forming a rigid square around Seb's small Eden spanning the entire side of the modest home. When you approach, Seb looks back at you from near the fence. "Here we are," he says, reaching his hand expertly to fold a marked-off section of the fence to the left side, clasping it to something invisible to your distracted eye. He steps through, and so do you.](else:)[(if: (history:) contains "afterWork29" or (history:) contains "afterWork39")[Is your garden out there?"](else:)["Is that a garden?"] you ask, knowing the answer already. Seb straightens, leaving Dog to his own business on the table, and beams. "Yeah!" he says, gravelly voice cracking when he raises it in a rare moment of excitement. "Want to see it?" "I'd love to," you say, not sure what to expect or why you feel the need to go out there. "Great!" Seb steps away from the table and walks past you, stopping under the out-of-place archway to extend his arm towards the hallway and the side door. You start down the hallway, Dog's squawks increasing in tempo and volume as he realizes he is losing your attention. He doesn't follow, though, and you approach the door at the end of the short, nondescript hallway, the dark outlines of side-doors shrinking away in the dim light. You peek through the dust-framed widow embedded in the cheap wooden exit, and are unable to register much other than the stark brightness and streaks of organic color. You comfortably grasp the handle and first pull, then push open the door as you feel it's resistance to move in the other direction. Your foot lands on the lowered step outside the door, causing a split-second of terror as you feel like you are falling. "Hey, there's a step," you hear Seb say mutedly from inside the house behind you, well-aware that it's too late for a warning. He snickers as he follows you out, moves closer once both of your feet are safe on the ground.] You glance over the formations of tomatoes right in front of you, and have a hard time recognizing much else by name. On the far side along the fence are some nondescipt vines. Near them, some low-lying leafy growth. There's a pair of raised plant beds adjancent to the house that are filled with something happily sprouting from them. Along the outside are wild yellow flowers. It's not particularly colorful, but there's something beautiful about the order of it all. Seb sneezes next to you and wipes his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. Sniffling, he makes a gruff, satisfied noise. "What do you think?" He stands with his hands on his hips. "It's nice," you say, and really mean it. "Nice? That's it?" Seb teases. "I toil for hours, and all I get is 'nice'? Geez, Louise." He glances over the tomatoes. "I tell you what will change your mind," he asserts. Taking one long step, he approaches not the (if: (history:)'s last is "driveHome7")[tomato plant that you had been eyeing from the road](else:)[biggest, most beautiful tomato plant], but its nearby cousin. It (if: (history:)'s last is "driveHome7")[also] has a single ripe tomato hanging from it, but it's not nearly as shiny, flawless, or large. There's a hint of green-brown on one side, and it's hanging so low that it's nearly in the dirt. "Try this!" he says, gesturing with his thumb while standing over the plant like a proud father. [[Pick Seb's choice.->driveHome18]] [[Pick the other one.->driveHome19]] [[Decline.->driveHome17]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")At first, you aren't sure how to respond due to your combined curiosity and weariness. You want to go home before the day is over, and you aren't sure when you will come back again. You're sure that you still have more to catch up on with your brother. But there's more that's on your mind. "I promise we won't watch a boring documentary this time," Seb says, attempting a hopeful jilt but only managing a hoarse incline at the end of his sentence. You let your hands fall from the wheel, and you turn to him and smile. "I don't think I have time, Seb," you say, "if I want to get home while it's still light out." "Oh," he says, sadly, but resigned. "I have one more stop to make." Seb looks up, pondering. After a moment, he has a realization. "Dad?" "Yeah." "Oh." Seb smiles, tightly drawing up his lips and slowly nodding his head. His shoulders relax, then touches the door handle, pops open the door, and leans down to look at you. "Give him a hard time, okay?" "I bet he'll beat me to it." "Yeah." He breathes heavily through his nose, and absently turns his head to glance down the road. "Well, bye then." "See ya, Seb." He nods again, and then the door closes behind him as he turns and strides across the yard, avoiding discarded obstacles and bounding up the stairs to the door. Framed by the car window, he disappears inside. Despite desperately wanting to get this over with, you find yourself unable to start the car just yet. The sound of your own heartbeat is the only sound you can hear, and it's deafening to be sitting in the car, your ears echoing every rippling beat as if underwater. It hurts, and the pressure is keeping you right where you are. So, you sit in the car, hands on the wheel, that weird tree hovering over you, and you wait.

(display: "NinaCarImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")You wish that he hadn't asked, even though you knew that there was no chance of avoiding this moment. Seb's attention is completely focused on you now, and his hopeful smile hurts deeply. Looking past him at the house, you feel increasingly anxious, picturing yourself stepping over the discarded artefacts strewn across the yard before traversing the porch towards the door. It feels like a hot vibration in your chest, and when it reaches the base of your throat and disturbs the built-up pressure in your ears you realize that there is nothing Seb could say to make you leave the car. You make yourself look at him again. "Seb," you nervously begin, "I can't. I'm sorry." You look away, staring guiltily at the steering wheel. Expecting Seb to object, you sit and wait for words of anger, sadness, or disappointment. None come. You wish he could understand what you mean, but he can't. If he had, he would tell you. Unable to let the silence stand, you continue, "I'm sorry about... everything." Still no response. "I'm sorry that I left home, but not for any of the reasons that you want, and I'm sorry for that, too. Just because I miss this place doesn't mean that I'm unhappy where I am." Silence. "This place isn't better. For you, it's not worse. There's nothing here that I want to be anymore. Seb, I just want you to understand that. Okay?" Sebastian is sitting loosely, and at some point he started looking at his hands. He gives no sign that he heard you, or if he did, that he understood in any way. He emits a small sigh and, without warning, puts his hand on the door handle, opens it, and leaves. He takes heavy steps towards the door and in just a moment is gone from view. Framed by the car window is the still-quivering front door. You stare after him and swallow the lump swelling in your throat. You feel drained, but no longer anxious. Seb knows what you meant. He has to. Despite desperately wanting to begin the drive home, you find yourself unable to start the car just yet. The sound of your own heartbeat is the only sound you can hear, and it's deafening to be sitting in the car, your ears echoing every rippling beat as if underwater. It hurts, and the pressure is keeping you right where you are. So, you sit in the car, hands on the wheel, that weird tree hovering over you, and you wait.

(set: $displayFooter to false)<div class="title">Natural Pressure</div> <div class="chapter_header"><br> [[Start->Inter]] {(if: (saved-games:) contains "Slot A")[(link: "Continue")[(set: $gameSaved to true)(load-game:"Slot A")]<br> <br> ]}[[Chapters]] [[Preface]] [[Acknowledgements]]</div>

(set: $displayFooter to true)Start from a particular chapter. **Note**: This does not carry decisions over from saved game. (link: "Work")[(goto: "Ch1")] (link: "Evening")[(display: "variablesInit")(goto: "Ch2")] (link: "Brunch")[(display: "variablesInit")(goto: "Ch3")] (link: "The Drive")[(display: "variablesInit")(goto: "Ch4")]

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(if: $displayFooter is true)[<div class="footer_nav"> <hr>[[Menu->SplashScreen]] | {(link:"Save")[(if:(save-game:"Slot A"))[(set: $gameSaved to true)Game saved!](else: )[ Sorry, I couldn't save your game.]]} | [[Preface]] | [[Acknowledgements]]]</div>

(set: $displayFooter to true)An Introduction to Interactive Narrative In traditional storytelling media, the reader or viewer is an observer. The audience processes what is in front of them and can form unique conclusions about quality, meaning, and significance regardless of what may or may not have actually happened in the story. It is possible, though, to allow readers to directly engage with the narrative. Readers can be given the freedom to direct events and conversations, explore environments at their leisure, and work towards desired or circumstantial outcomes. These and other affordances are what make interactive narratives - such as text-based interactive fiction, visual novels, videogames and other various sub-media - unique. Interactivity is a tool that is underutilized for literary storytelling. Despite its ability to provide individualized, meaningful experiences for the reader, it seems esoteric and is often trivialized. I began this project with the intention of creating a worthwhile and literary interactive narrative in order to explore the potential of the medium. In choosing to undertake something so unconventional, it has been necessary to examine noteworthy interactive works, familiarize myself with the unique conventions of writing interactive fiction, and engage with communities of writers and readers in addition to the work of creating an interactive story. When I began, I only had limited exposure to strictly text-based interactive narratives. Most of my interest in interactivity stemmed from my interest in video game storytelling. The sometimes-conflicting combination of gameplay and narrative makes storytelling in games a complex endeavor. There is a great deal of discussion on these concepts of ludology (gameplay) and narratology among game developers and writers. It can be difficult to consolidate the two in a way that satisfies an audience, especially when, for some games, teams are disparate operations of a dozen, a hundred, or even several hundred people all trying to come together under one creative vision. However, one thing that gameplay lends to narrative in many games is interactivity. Games are interactive by nature. This unignorable, unpredictable element of the audience’s participation in the world is part of what makes storytelling in games so difficult and multifaceted. At the same time, the direct engagement of the audience in this way is what makes interactive storytelling so unique. Players of games typically have to navigate a space. Often they can choose to explore this space however they wish, interacting with, viewing, reading, talking to, avoiding, and destroying things at their leisure within the confines of the game’s world and rules. In a book, the story is experienced in an order that is crafted by the writer. Games are broadly organized in this way as well, but any given player will have at least a marginally different experience than another one. To help have a coherent story, some games - many modern, high-budget, “AAA” games - consist of segmented sections of gameplay in which the player explores a space, defeats enemies, and integrates themselves into the world, followed by blocks of story presented as a short cinematic. Other games embrace interactivity as part of the story, either letting the player directly influence conversations and events, or having the whole game be about the experience of interacting with the space. There are innumerable ways that games embrace or forgo story, but regardless, the gameplay and the narrative together form the totality of the player’s experience. It is possible, though, to utilize interactivity while leaving gameplay by the wayside, just as the inverse is possible. This niche is where interactive fiction resides. It’s a compromise between two of the things that I love the most: literature and games. The two are far from mutually exclusive, and I wanted to see how deep that connection could go and what interactivity could add to a work of literary fiction. First, I needed to pin down exactly what - stylistically, compositionally, and technically - makes interactive narratives different than traditional, linear stories. To that end I dove into a few interactive works that were already on my radar. My goal was to experience, with a critical eye, a variety of interactive fiction works from which I could learn more about the medium. I started by reading Max Gladstone’s Choice of the Deathless, an intriguing, text-based, “necromantic legal thriller” that is based on Gladstone’s The Craft Sequence. Then, I played We Know the Devil, a surreal, dark visual novel published by Date Nighto and written by Aevee Bee. Choice of the Deathless is a fantasy-noir story in which the player’s choices serve to customize the blank-slate protagonist and inform the particulars of the plot. We Know the Devil, as typical of the visual novel subgenre, relies on audiovisual elements to help tell the story, throughout which the player makes decisions about which of the three protagonists gets left out of various social situations. Each of these decisions inform the events of the game’s climax. These works are vastly different from one another, but in trying to find a pattern I became interested in two things: interactive narrative for adaptation and investigation as a mechanism for player investment. After traversing these stories a few times and thinking a lot about them both, I contacted the creators about these theories and about writing interactive narratives in general. Both of them were immensely helpful. Gladstone provided some feedback about the tools he used to create Choice of the Deathless, and seemed to suggest that interactive narratives are an excellent way to allow readers to experience existing stories in a unique and informative way. He disagreed, though, about investigation, because in his experience it’s more of a means to an end for players. Aevee Bee offered a great deal of structural advice, and referred me to one of the biggest figures in the interactive fiction community: Emily Short. It’s difficult to explore interactive narrative without encountering Emily Short at some point. She has written and published over thirty-five works of interactive fiction, helped to create various tools for creating interactive works, and actively advocates for the medium. Naturally, I proceeded to read one of her most famous works, Galatea. Galatea is a parser-based interactive fiction, meaning that instead of choosing options from a list of hypertext options, the player has to type commands that the story can respond to. The story begins by providing a simple description of the player’s surroundings, and they can choose how to interact with the space by using commands like LOOK AT THE CURTAIN or ASK ABOUT PYGMALION, the clues for which are provided by the context of what has been seen or heard. Galatea, in the story, is a character based on the Greek mythological figure of the same name. She was once a statue, is now alive, and is on display in a museum. There is no plot other than to interact with her, learn about her, help her escape, or whatever it is that the player wants to do or glean from the experience. There are an immense number of different endings: Short has not confirmed the exact number, but there are at least twenty-five, some of which are easier to obtain than others. The language is beautiful, the interactions feel realistic, and despite being short in length, Galatea is massively complex. I was inspired by Galatea, and proceeded to spend some time on Emily Short’s blog before contacting her as well. I learned a great deal from the questions that I posed to her. She emphasized that there are no stories completely ill-suited for interactive elements, but those that allow for world building or that benefit in some particular way from the strengths of the medium - namely, exploration, challenge, constraint, and complicity - are best. Short had written about the use of detail in parser-based interactive fiction (like Galatea), specifically, how they had to do more “work” than in traditional literature. In some ways, parser-based interactive fiction takes the form of a puzzle that the player has to solve by attempting different solutions and analyzing the information that they have for clues. The text, then, needs to provide these clues while simultaneously describing the space and being linguistically interesting, and it can be a hard balance to maintain. If the way to progress is too difficult to find, players will be unable to progress. If the text has the sole purpose of helping the players advance through the plot, there’s less room for character-driven interactions and for telling the story that you want to tell. This is less the case in choice-based interactive fiction (like Choice of the Deathless or We Know the Devil), because it’s less reliant on puzzles. Instead of having to figure out what to say and when, the player is presented with all of the directions they can go, so the question becomes “what should I do” as opposed to “how do I proceed.” Puzzles do have their uses, however. They are not necessary for interactive fiction, but often they are used to “gate” the player, forcing them to encounter certain bits of information before proceeding in an otherwise hard-to-control open, explorable space. Puzzles, then, seemed tied in some way to investigation. In traditional literature, the text and the language itself is one of the most compelling elements of the experience, which has very little to do with rewards associated with problem-solving that drive many works of parser-based interactive fiction. My theory was that the motivation to investigate filled the role of compelling the reader in interactive narratives such as games. Galatea, after all, was just about engaging with a character and discovering everything that you could about her. From a writer’s perspective, it also makes sense to integrate reasons to engage with the space as a way to get readers to actually read the content that you write, which some readers would certainly skip right past none the wiser if there wasn’t a reason to stop and smell the roses on their way from A to Z. This connection would also explain why there are a lot of interactive works thematically based on investigation as well: corporate mystery in Choice of the Deathless, literal exploration in the classic Colossal Cave Adventure, “whodunit” in Telltale’s The Wolf Among Us. There are, however, many contrary examples to this “investigation” theory, making it a stretch. It was also impossible, upon reflection, to separate “investigative elements” from “just good writing” when it came down to what felt engaging about individual works. It’s still a written medium after all, and investigation isn’t so prominent that it’s grounds for distinction between it and linear stories. I still think that investigative stories work well in an interactive setting they easily fit into the tenets of interactive fiction suggested by Emily Short: exploration, challenge, constraint, and complicity. However, I don’t think that puzzles or “investigation” are at all necessary for an interactive work to be successful and - more importantly - literary. Just as there are multitudes of genres and techniques in traditional, linear literature, interactive narratives are not limited to many unifying mechanics or styles, despite trends in popular works that might suggest otherwise. That’s not to say, however, that the unique tools that interactivity brings to the table can be ignored, because they go a long way in leveraging the uniqueness of the medium. Regardless, I decided to steer away from parser-based interactive fiction for my project. They can be more complex to make, and as a first-time writer of an interactive story I wanted to focus as much as possible on the story itself, as opposed to issues of puzzle design and broad, spatial world-building. After engaging with Emily Short, I started to discover more about the extensive online community of readers and writers of interactive fiction. As it turns out, there are many digital places in which aficionados of interactive storytelling gather, though they are surprisingly hard to find. Chat rooms, MUDs (a “multi-user dungeon,” is a sort of simulated gathering place where people can interact using text commands), and forums are scattered throughout various nooks on the internet. Through accessing these spaces I was able to get in contact with an insightful, friendly community that really helped me move forward with this project. I met amateur writers, veterans, and fans, all of whom are always happy to discuss a problem or an interactive work of interest. From there, I learned about reading groups, competitions, and collaborations that I surely wouldn’t have encountered otherwise. I participated in reading and rating entries for IFComp, one of the biggest interactive fiction competitions of the year. I also learned about Ectocomp: a casual, three-hour-long, Halloween-themed interactive fiction competition. For that, I decided to create a short slice of what would later become my project, which meant that I needed an idea. Fresh off of my “investigation” tangent and head full of pulpy, dramatic stories that I had encountered, I came up with a surreal, transgressive idea that centered on culturally-imposed self-mutilation and the complex relationship between two family members following a murder. After trying to wade through the particulars and throwing something together for Ectocomp, I came to realize that it was a terrible premise. It was far-fetched, and more importantly it wasn’t going to accomplish my goals. I want to show that a literary story without any gimmicks, unrelatable conflict, or bizarre metaphors can be told with - and benefit from - interactivity. So, I abandoned the bulk of my initial idea to look for something better. Upon reflection I realized that it was the conflict between the protagonist and her brother that interested me the most. In the original plot, they were estranged, but were brought back together by a shared hatred of their father. I decided, then, that in order to make the story as character-driven and focused as possible, I was going to write about them. I went back to the drawing board in order to utilize my personal experience to tell a story about something simple, personal, and relevant. In general, I don’t buy into the “write what you know” creative process. Because of that, I tend to try and do just the opposite: write about something more interesting than what I know. The more I brainstormed, though, the more I returned to things that I heard or experienced, and to people that I know. So, I came up with an idea based partly on myself and my home town of Jasper, Arkansas, and more directly based on a few conversations that I had with some old friends that still live there. None of the characters - including the protagonist - are inspired by anyone in particular, but are collections of ideas that I have encountered first or second-hand. From that determination came the story of Nina and Sebastian Fish. Growing up in a rural home town, the two of them were inseparable until Nina, the older sibling, graduated from high school and enrolled in college a few hours’ drive away. Their father thought that college was a waste of time, and insisted that she should stay home, since that’s were she would inevitably end up anyway. Nina went to college despite her family’s apprehension, and after moving out, she fell completely out of touch with them. She became wrapped up in college life, then later in an unfulfilling day job. On an ordinary day at work, she receives a phone call from her brother, Seb, who is in town and needs a ride back home. Over the next few days, she must attempt to come to terms with the two forces pulling on her: one from happiness, and one from home. I began working on the story by writing a simple scene which eventually became the second of four total parts. My initial plan for this was to write something akin to a traditional, linear short story that would end up becoming a particular transversal through the branching narrative. This method, however, didn’t feel at all natural for writing an interactive story. If it began as a linear narrative and I started working on it as if it was, it would have been difficult to justify retroactively adding meaningful interactive elements. The resulting story would clearly have been tellable without. If the narrative was to fully benefit from interactivity, it was important to design it with interactivity in mind from the beginning. Using an open-source interactive story creation tool called Twine, I dove in and started writing the scene, trying to gauge who these characters would become and where they would go. As it turned out, the interactivity seemed to come naturally and it wasn’t very difficult to come up with small, meaningful ways for the story to diverge. After finishing the first draft of this scene, I created the layout for the rest of the story and went to work crafting an introductory segment that would establish the protagonist, the conflict, and the potential for interactive story elements. I spent a great deal of time on the introductory segment, after which the third and fourth parts steadily grew. Writing Natural Pressure was, and continues to be, a tedious process. The Twine interface is intuitive, but in order to perform some of the more interesting, advanced interactions there was something of a technical learning curve. As a computer science student, I had a good grasp on programming logic in general, but Twine uses a unique markup syntax that took some time to get used to, especially while writing the introductory scene. There is a moderately complex segment where the protagonist is navigating a series of intersections that can be traversed using innumerable different paths. This section was very time-consuming to create, and necessitated the use of some complicated, overlapping logical operations so that the system could respond appropriately to different things that the reader has seen. In scenarios like this and throughout interactive stories, there is the danger of “explosion,” or a situation in which the story’s branching continues to diverge until it becomes unmanageably large. There is always room for adding more interactions, asides, and subplots, and the difficulty lies in finding where to rein it in. This problem is present in other forms of writing as well, necessitating limits in scope. With interactivity, though, it becomes a balancing act of having enough meaningful reader-driven plot divergence while simultaneously keeping the project manageable. There were several points where I was forced to cut small sections of content to avoid this, and it was a major issue for the traffic sequence. Because there are so many different paths that a reader can take through the story, it has also proven to be difficult to edit interactive text for content and logical errors. It’s impossible to simply read the story from start to finish and have a full understanding of the content. Some errors are only noticeable if the reader has some familiarity with the format. It seems that every time I or someone else playtests the story, there is a handful of new narrative or logical issues that need fixed and are nearly impossible to identify without the context of the whole path taken by the reader. Through extensive readings and re-readings, though, the quality of the story continues to improve. So, I’ve ended up with an interactive short story that, cumulatively, has the content of a short novel. With a single traversal, it’s possible to view approximately one third of the total content, and each time through has the potential to inform something completely unique about the relationship between Nina, Seb, their father, and their home. There are no murder mysteries, dragons, or dramatic twists. It’s a simple story about normal people with real conflicts. Interactivity adds a whole new layer of depth, making the possibility of alternative outcomes apparent by nature. Since the story is in second person - a unique and common affordance to interactive narrative - the reader’s involvement is embraced and leveraged to create culpable storytelling moments. Natural Pressure is a story of anxiety and uncertainty, and without interactivity, it would lose a level of immersion to become a fundamentally different experience. In working on this project, I’ve grown a lot as a creator. It’s been a lot of work, but I’m really proud of what I’ve done, even if there is plenty of room for improvement. I’ve met a lot of great people, and feel like I’m starting to become part of the community. At the Game Developer’s Conference in San Francisco, I was able to meet some of them in person, and in interacting with other game developers and narrative designers was able to learn a lot, gain feedback, and make meaningful connections. Text-based interactive narrative, though, still seems to lie in a liminal space between games and literature, and neither camp seems to have fully embraced it. Some of the oldest video games, such as Zork or Colossal Cave Adventure, were purely text-based interactive stories. Interactive elements are still common in modern games, but purely text-based interactive fiction can be abstruse to read and to write. In order to read Emily Short’s Galatea and many other parser-based interactive stories, for example, it’s necessary to download an interpreter that can translate the particular format that it’s presented in. Without interacting with the community directly, it can also be difficult to even find interactive stories unless you specifically search for it. This is a problem, because without exposure the audience for the medium is unable to grow. This problem also affects potential writers. Unlike traditional literature, which anyone with something to write with and a decent grasp of a language can try their hand at, interactive fiction has a larger technological barrier. There are many different environments that can be used to write interactive text, but accessing them, learning how to use them, and being able to perform complex operations within them might seem impossible to writers without that specific set of skills. Furthermore, text-based interactive narratives have such a small audience with such little infrastructure for funding and distribution that writing an interactive story might feel like an experimental screech into the void. The best way to learn, as with anything, is to interact with more experienced people.The community is welcoming to new people interested in interactive work, but you just have to find them. Anyone who takes the time to interact in the online gathering spaces tends to have more than just a passing interest in the medium. The inaccessibility of reading and writing it might be why interactive literature isn’t really growing past the community’s bounds and onto a more broad literary scene. Strictly text-based interactive fiction rarely gains much widespread critical attention, and many people who might otherwise be able to appreciate it don’t even know that it exists. However, it’s becoming easier all the time. More tools are being developed to make the process more intuitive, and there are a handful of people who are trying to spread awareness of interactive fiction beyond it’s current insular scene.This project has given me a great appreciation for interactivity as a literary tool. Hopefully Natural Pressure, as flawed as it may be, shows a small glimpse of what this medium might be capable of. - Olivia Dunlap

(set: $displayFooter to true)(css: "font-size:40px; color:#bc7407")[**Writer**] Olivia Dunlap (link: "@ocdunlap")[(goto-url: "https://twitter.com/ocdunlap")] (css: "font-size:40px; color:#bc7407")[**Character Portraits**] **Nina** Kayla Bolin **Seb** Alex Schneider **Jeremy** Robbie Hunt **Andrea** Sarah Shillcutt **Matata** Steve Purrell (css: "font-size:40px; color:#bc7407")[**Playtesters, Advice-Givers, All-Around Awesome People**] Jeff Condran Paul Crutcher Max Gladstone Robbie Hunt Lyle Jorgenson Tanner Marshall Brad Simms Emily Short Joe Williams Denizens of the Euphoria IF chatroom My parents Keanu Reeves *(pictured)* U of A Little Rock And, finally, the *William G. Cooper Honors Program in English* for which I began my interactive adventure. <img src ="http://i.imgur.com/R3aHkAu.jpg?1">

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(if: (history:) contains "afterWork26")[(display: "SebHappyImage")](else:)[(display:"SebNeutralImage")]You hear a caw and a crow that almost sound like words, and the smile that it puts on your face draws you around the corner. Through the brown-toned archway is what appears to be a kitchen, complete with a scratched and worn dining table, on which stands the crooning cockatoo. Seb is standing next to him, petting his chin while he lifts up his wings and makes occasional chittering sounds. When you enter his line of sight, he squints at you suspiciously. "Dog, be nice," Seb coos, then turns to you. "Dog really doesn't like it when other people come in here," he says, "so this is a good sign he remembers you. Birds are smart." "Yeah, they sure are." Dog squints harder. (if: (history:) contains "afterWork26")[You decide to try and really test his memory. You bob your head, starting straight at him, and hum for a second before harshly singing, "...who let the Dog out?" More humming. There is silence, and then Dog blinks and starts bobbing his head with you, wings to the side for balance. You try again: "...who let the-" and before you get the second word out, Dog mimics the line in perfect unison. Seb laughs. "See! I told you so!" he says, escstatic that Dog isn't giving you the silent treatment just to spite him. You stop singing and Dog stomps around happily on the table. He keeps trying to sing, but eventually gets stuck on the last few syllables: "Dog out...Dog out! Dog out! Dog-"](else:)[You take a step towards the table, and once you're through the dividing arch you become aware of a musty smell and a stillness in the air. You slowly stretch your arm out towards Dog. Somehow you know that he feels your hesitation, but you reach anyway. His chest puffs up, his crest stretches upward, and after you cross an inch more of space, he hisses and bites. You wince and pull back, seeing a tiny bead of blood form on your middle knuckle. Sebastian slaps his open hand on the table, not hitting the bird, but letting him know he's in trouble. "Dog," he warns, "what's the matter with you"? "It's okay," you begin to say, but Dog's already flustered and he flaps off down the hallway that you passed on your way in. ] You feel a sharp pain in your ears again. (if: (history:) contains "afterWork26")[Dog is still spinning circles on the table. "Dog out! Dog ow! "Dogow! Ogow! Gaw!" Sebastian is alternating glances between him and you, smiling. He's happy that you are here. Seeing you get Dog riled up has got to be a welcome sight, having been stuck in here alone with him for months now.](else:)[Seb is looking worriedly at the space where Dog just was. There is a small white feather on the table, and he picks it up carefully. He shrugs. "Weird. I really thought he had missed you. I still think he does," he says, looking at you and smiling sadly.] But there's something sad in the split second between here and there: a slackening in his grin that you feel, too. You don't want to leave yet. The pressure gets worse, even as you avert your eyes from Seb to try and relieve it. So you stand there, hands on your temples, Dog's cawing echoing through the house, and hope that it's worth it when they pop.

(display: "NinaIrritatedImage")(display: "SebIrritatedImage")You glance back and forth between the sad, brownish tomato that Seb is hovering over like a proud father and the nearby perfect, round specimen hanging near the side gate. You're sure that Seb's choice is a good one, but you are less sure that you want to try it. The other one is much more appealing, but you don't want to take it because of Seb. Seb's attention is completely focused on you now, and his hopeful smile hurts deeply. Your indecision turns into anxiety, and it starts to feel like a hot vibration in your chest. When it reaches the base of your throat and disturbs the built-up pressure in your ears you realize that there is nothing you want more than to not have to decide anything at all. You make yourself look at him again. "Seb," you nervously begin, "I can't. I don't really like tomatoes. I'm sorry." You look at the ground and dig the toe of your shoe into the dirt. "I should go." You stare guiltily at the ground underneath your feet. Expecting Seb to be confused, you sit and wait for words of anger, sadness, or disappointment. None come. You wish he could understand what you mean, but he can't. If he had, he would tell you. Unable to let the silence stand, you continue, "I'm sorry about... everything." Still no response. "I'm sorry that I left home, but not for any of the reasons that you want, and I'm sorry for that, too. Just because I miss this place doesn't mean that I'm unhappy where I am." Silence. "This place isn't better. For you, it's not worse. There's nothing here that I want to be anymore. Seb, I just want you to understand that. Okay?" Sebastian is standing loosely, and at some point he started looking at his hands. He gives no sign that he heard you, or if he did, that he understood in any way. He emits a small sigh and, without warning, turns on his heels, traverses the garden, and walks towards the house. He takes heavy steps towards the door and in just a moment is gone from view. The screen door quivers on its hinges behind him. You stare after him and swallow the lump swelling in your throat. You feel drained, but no longer anxious. Seb knows what you meant. He has to. Despite desperately wanting to go home, you find yourself unable to walk back to the car just yet. The sound of your own heartbeat is the only thing you can hear, and it's deafening to be standing in the garden, your ears echoing every rippling beat as if underwater. There's no insect whirring or gusts of wind. There's just the building pressure, and it hurts badly enough to keep you right where you are. So, you stand, hands to your sides, a tomato plant on either side of you, and you wait.

(display: "NinaNeutralImage")(display: "SebHappyImage")You look at the brownish tomato instead of him and crease your mouth in contemplation. "You know you want to," Seb prompts. You aren't sure that you do, but you don't say that. Instead, you bend over, letting your knees touch the well-trod earth, and cup your hand around it. At the first touch of your hand, the fruit comes loose from the plant, and you hold it delacately as you stand up. Before taking a bite, you consider the object in your hand more closely. You are unsure whether the discoloration is because of bruising or is normal for this particular variety of tomato. You try to remember the names of some of the tomatoes you had seen at the farmer's market downtown. Heirloom? Big boy? Roma? You learn nothing from looking at the asymmetrical bulge and the randomly distributed patches of color. You glance at Seb, and he's watching you closely, entertained by your suspicion. He's the one who has grown these tomatoes. He knows them better than you ever would. Surely he knows what he's talking about when he says you should eat this one. Keeping your eyes on Seb, you pull your hand close to your face and take a small bite. It's soft, more soft than you would have expected from a tomato, and instead of being full of bitter juice it consists of one solid mass. It doesn't really taste like anything. You chew it carefully, even though you barely have to chew at all. Your ears start to hurt again, and this time the chewing motions bring the pressure to a peak. "Mmm," you pointedly mumble through your food. Seb makes a noise that sounds something like a laugh, and smiles. "You think so?" he says, loudly, "Good! See, I knew I didn't need to invest in a garbage disposal! (if: (history:) contains "dayOff17")[Joyce can stop nagging me about it!]" You make a sour face, and throw the rest of the tomato vaguely in Seb's direction. He laughs harder, gruffly, and at your expense. For some reason, you keep chewing the bit in your mouth. You smile back. The last few solid lumps of flesh melt into nothing. Your teeth clench and you swallow, your ears finally popping, and you feel comfortable at last.

(display: "NinaHappyImage")(display: "SebNeutralImage")You look at the brownish tomato instead of him and crease your mouth in contemplation. "You know you want to," Seb prompts. You aren't sure that you do, but you don't say that. Instead, you turn to look at the nearby, nicer plant. The single fruit hanging from it looks much more appetizing than the other, dimminutive one. You take two steps away from Seb, and kneel to pick the perfect, bright-red tomato. Grasping it tightly in your hand, you turn to look at Seb. He's watching you carefully, but doesn't look disappointed or surprised. You hold it up in front of you and confidently say, "I think I'll have this one." "Alright," Seb replies, shrugging. "It's your funeral." You consider the fruit a bit more before dedicating to it. It's almost uncanny how round and uniform it is in shape, save for the characteristic dip where it was only moments ago connected to the plant. Looking at it closely, though, you notice it isn't exactly perfect. You count three long, thin scratches along the surface: side effects of containing everything inside. Satisfied, you pull it to your face and bite, immediately met with a burst of liquid flavor as the surface snaps. The fruit has almost no texture: just a thin surface layer filled with seeds and juice. It tastes fantastic. You swallow the liquid, traces of it making its way to your chin, and chew on the strips of flesh that don't go down as easily. You have a hard time holding the rest of the fruit in your hand, the whole thing in danger of collapsing. Your labored chewing makes your ears start to hurt again, and it nears a painful peak. "Mmm," you pointedly mumble through your food. Seb makes a noise that sounds something like a satisfied grunt, and smiles. "Glad you think so!" he says, beeming as you tear another bite off of the fruit. "I was saving that one for a special occasion. And if anything is a special occasion, it's this!" You aren't sure if he's serious or not, but you extend your arm and offer him the other half. He shakes his head, "Ah, no thanks," he says, "it looks like you can take care of it." You shrug, and so does he. In near-silence, you keep chewing and he keeps watching. Your ears feel increasingly like they are full of water, and for a moment you stop hearing anything but your own teeth grinding together bits of tomato. It melts into nothing, and you swallow, your ears finally popping. You feel comfortable at last.

Your alarm goes off, angrily skreeching something that sounds like your name. "Eee! Eee! Eeen! Eena! Nina! Nina!" You tell yourself that you are going to ignore it. And then you don't. You get up, get dressed, brush your teeth. The litter box in the bathroom is full to bursting, and you take the rare time out of your morning to quickly empty it. Matata is nowhere to be seen, so you have no way to know if he's thankful. You leave down the hallway and the stairs. You make it to your car, square in the middle of the parking lot, framed by a pair of too-close telephone poles. Before you leave, you sit in the driver's seat for a moment, wondering if you are going to go to work or perhaps somewhere else instead. For the first time since college, you feel like you've sprung a leak, and before long you might be empty. Then the key turns, and the car begins to make its way downtown with plenty of time to spare for you to get to work on time, fill up your day, then go home. [[Begin.->Ch1]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(if: $lightColor is "red")[(Set: $lightColor to "green")](else:)[(Set: $lightColor to "red")](Set: $timeMinute += 2)(if: (history:)'s last is "intro7")[You stare straight ahead and momentarily stop paying attention to what's around you. The stoplight, colors changing diligently in your blurry peripheral vision, start to make you feel like you're trapped in a time loop. Out of focus, they mix with the police lights and make you feel dizzy. You snap out of it though when you see another flickering, out-of-sync light come down in front of you from Harbor Street: an ambulance, arriving late to the scene. Your concern about their response time is overshadowed briefly by your frustration at having another variable that needs to be resolved before you can get to work. The ambulance parks and a few EMTs casually jump out of the vehicle. Before long, silver-tie is being inspected and Red-hat is crossing his arms.](else:)[Red-hat stands broodingly as the tow truck prepares to snare his vehicle. Silver-tie sits comfortably in the back of the ambulance, (either: "occasionally nodding his head", "occasionally shaking his head", "wincing while he gets poked", "pretending not to be bothered by the EMTs' distant and uninterested questioning"). You still aren't sure how much longer you are going to have to wait. The car behind you (either: "honks in frustration", "turns and leaves", "pulls up dangerously close", "switches off their engine").] The light turns $lightColor.(display: "adjustTime") The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. (if: $timeHour is 9 and $timeMinute >= 29)[[[Stay.->intro17]]](else:)[[[Stay.->intro16]]] [[Go.->intro3]]

(display: "NinaCarImage")(Set: $timeMinute += 3)You think about turning on the radio, but change your mind. You also consider the possibility of taking a nap, with the assumption that the cars behind you would surely let you know when the coast is clear. Your phone somehow managed to stay in your pocket this entire time, and that realization makes you wonder if maybe you should have called your manager. It's too late now though. It's not like you were ever going to be on time anyway, and making a call now wouldn't change anything. You'll just have to take that third mark. You flip the sun visor down, then back up for the fifth time in a row when you notice movement beginning all at once. First, the tow truck, then, the ambulance with silver-tie inside. Another tow truck arrives shortly after, but by that time the policewoman is stepping out onto the now-widened part of the street. You look right at her, and, to your astonishment, she waves for you to cross the intersection first. Maybe she admires your endurance.(display: "adjustTime") The clock reads $timeHour:(if: $timeMinute < 10)[0]$timeMinute. [[Go north on Harbor.->inter10]]