I: Barbara Wakes
Is it a lie to say she woke when there was no such thing as sleep?
Nights in Idle were always Barbara's favorite hours, ever since she was a little girl gleefully ignoring her bedtime. In the desert there was no such thing as a lingering heat; as soon as the sun sank below the horizon she could enjoy a few hours of delicious coolness in the air. It was a most delightful way to fall asleep under the watchful eyes of Alma Smith, Fable, and the stars above.
There was no Alma anymore, nor was there a Fable. Barbara would have to make do with stars.
Barbara lied on the roof of her shop, above the room which held her bed, above the quiet streets of a sleepy town. The streetlamps were out that night, she noted with pleasure, and there was nothing to wash out the flickering radiance above her. There to her left--a crescent moon, the sickle fit to geld a Titan. There the North Star, the key to a true course and safe travels. Cutting across the heavens in a barrier as mighty as Church Street, a river of light which rumor said might contain new worlds. Other Earths, other Barbaras looking at foreign moons and stars.
It was comforting, she decided, to imagine someone like yourself and yet entirely themselves. Barbara wondered why it had taken her so many years to realize it.
Above her, the river of light turned in its ancient round. Below her, the river of darkness sighed and spread. Slow things, or so they would seem to people who needed to sleep.
Barbara was not people, and she watched the sky.
II: Barbara Walks
"Barb? Oh sweetie, what are you doing out this late?"
Barbara's name was not Barb, but correcting Linda serves no purpose. She glanced behind her to see Linda frowning at her in a lime green jogging suit and bright purple sneakers. The combination was unexpectedly hilarious on a woman who had driven three fast food restaurant managers to tears.
"I might ask you the same," Barbara replied. "Isn't it late to be checking the length of everyone's lawns?"
"I have insomnia, dear," Linda informed her. The narrow-eyed glare struck Barbara as inexplicably maternal given it came from a woman nearly fifty years her junior. "Exercise is the best way to stay healthy under those conditions, and my house is right around the corner. It doesn't explain, however, what you're doing here so late."
Barbara hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "I prefer to think of it as getting an early start on the day. Sometimes what you really need is a good walk around town to clear your head. Wouldn't you agree?"
Linda Lowes was unimpressed. This was normal. "Not to burn off energy, or pass the time? I suppose everyone has their hobbies."
The word hobbies was said with the precise, puncturing sweetness Linda used to say working mom. Barbara resumes walking, Linda at her right checking a Fitbit which may as well have been attached to a mannequin.
"How's your father?" Linda asked after a minute or so of silence. "It's been forever since I've seen him around town. He didn't move away, did he?"
Barbara considered the throb of blood in her veins and the four thousand, eight hundred seventy-two drops of dew on the nearest car. She considered Brooklynn, sweat forming on her brow as she dreamed of demons and math tests in her bed. She considered moisture soaked into every stone and brick, invisible and omnipresent. She considered plants digging down, down into the soil to drink deep of the waters of Idle.
"Oh, he's around," Barbara told Linda without a hint of guile. "Don't you worry about him."
This answer did not appear to reassure Linda, so Barbara continued for formality's sake. "How are the kids? Doing well in school, I hope."
