In the early morning hours, I've found the URE has a certain way of stretching. First, the pipes pop as air rushes through their hollow centers throughout the underground tunnels. Then, the walls exhale in a slow hiss, rustling on their concrete beds. The moaning salutations complete the phase of wakefulness.
I'm the first to step onto the grated walkways. The sounds are a symphony that accompanies me.
Debris from the Marketplace Tragedy remains ignored on the floor. Blood puddles stain the concrete. Trusses support the ceiling remnants. But it doesn't matter. The marketplace is a ghost town. I'm here for the few who have opened shop. Earlier than usual, I take my position by the flour sacks.
I wonder if the marketplace on NOHA will be the same. I wonder if the stalls will have the same corroded frames and rusty pipe dreams. I envision the marketplace through the purple filter of NOHA's atmosphere. Everything is exactly as it is now. Maybe it's a little more violaceous than before—but it's all the same.
Gears cranking as shop owners pull up the metal barriers from their storefront interrupts my thoughts.
"'Mornin', Lorn."I ignore the baker who pulls flour from my perch.
He slides the massive sacks over the ground before hauling them over his shoulder without stumbling. "Ten days, huh?" He adjusts the sack. "Have you and Simon packed up yet?"
"Where were you assigned?" I ask.
"ARC9. The new booth seems surprisingly spacious."
I drift into my own world. He's with Dean. Little bits of me are jealous—like my fingers and tiny neck hairs. They want to be wherever Dean is. My breasts wouldn't mind either. In the span of six seconds, I'm buzzing from the memory of Dean's touch.
Love-sick Janika gets nothing done.
"Tell your pop I said hey, would you?" The baker is oblivious to the foray in my head.
There's no one out besides me and a few bags of flour. I lean against the wall and let my eyes drift close for a second.
Simon's snores were once comforting white noise but have ignited into luminous reminders that there is unfinished stuff in my personal life. It makes me uncomfortable. With Louis the Baker's prodding, the discomfort rises.
There's not much time left to resolve whatever it is that has come between us. In a few days, we will board our separate ships and hope that we both make it to the other end. We can hash it out when we land.
But after five years apart, will any of it even matter anymore?
My eyes close longer than I expected. I'm startled awake by the clanking of another shopkeeper lifting his metal gates. The adrenaline is wearing off. I'm exhausted like I've spent consecutive days Topside.