Milk Town

01. milk town

There's a lot to do in Milk Town.

At noon, the shops flip their closed signs around, and people funnel into Madeline Street for lunch. By half past, there's a 20-minute wait for Nana's and a line out the door for Minty Z's. Families pull their kids out of school early on Fridays to spend time roaming the shops together. It's a place where couples propose in the middle of the street, the perfect blue sky in the back, the perfect audience surrounding them. And the action always starts at noon, every day of every week of every year.

Pom Pom's opens its doors at 10:30, though.

milk town

wednesday, march 27th

10:37am

Marmalade Darling was, really, terribly, fucking hungry.

She had spent the night tending to her best friend's boyfriend's clingy dog. Clover and Matty had went on vacation to Europe, but decided their two-month old puppy was too little to travel, so that left him in the hands of Marmalade. Buddy was great, but he woke her up at 8am, and a quick walk turned into a jog, which turned into a run, which turned into a chase-after-Buddy-because-she-dropped-the-leash. Needless to say, she had been up for way too long with way too little food in her stomach.

Now she walked down Madeline street, Buddy-less, in search of her first meal of the day. As she wandered past houses, she noticed each and every house in a different style of architecture. Some were short and cottage-like, others tall and cabin-ish, but all were colorful as could be. The suburbs eventually started dwindling as the Madeline came to intersect a larger road, blocked off to traffic. It was what Clover had raved to her about: Milk Town's world-famous Main Street.

Apparently, some of the best food Clover had ever tasted was made here. But as Marmalade passed shop after shop, she noticed each were closed. Nobody inside. Nobody on the street except her.

"Damn it..." she mumbled, looking down her side of the street to see if any doors were open.

None. It seemed the people in Milk Town valued their morning time. Clover had told her it was a close-knit community, but she didn't think it was this scheduled. It was weird. Way too quiet.

Suddenly, Marmalade's eyes caught sight of an open door. A few doors down, across the brick road, was a nice-looking shop with two picnic benches outside. A woman sat at one of the benches, reading a book. She looked up as Marmalade approached the door and smiled. Marmalade smiled back. She looked sweet.

"Welcome," a cheerful voice piped up, "first time here?"

Marmalade's head lifted to see a woman standing behind the counter. She smiled back at the woman, but just as she was about to respond, she noticed a man beside her. He was standing where a customer would, but he was leaned against the glass display above the counter, as though he had been speaking with the woman. And his eyes were looking all-too curiously at Marmalade.

He was somewhat smiling at her, but almost in an amused way. The corner of his smile was drawn up, to create a sort-of smirk--suddenly felt out-of-place in her Buddy-walking clothes. He was dressed as though he were on his way to work in an office: a white button up, dress pants, and dress shoes. His hair was done, but tousled; his face was shaved, but already in a five-o'clock shadow. She smiled weakly at him before looking back to the woman, nodding to her previous question. She felt her cheeks flush a bit in her fluster.

"Yes! Are you guys open?"

"Sure are. Where are you from?"

She had made her way to the counter. As she had walked closer, she caught scent of him. He smelled amazing. Like the counter of the Macy's Men's Department, or something.