Peeta switches gears on his hybrid bicycle, pumping a little harder until he crests the next hill. This is his favorite bike path in Panem, taking him from his parents' bakery in the historic district all the way through downtown and out through the suburbs to the area that borders the woods, known as The Seam.
It's peaceful out here on the last leg of the trail, which runs along just beside a group of run down Seam houses, the train track bordering the other side. Peeta fixes his gaze on the wide creek that sits on the other side of the train track and beyond that the tree line where filtered sunlight disappears entirely into dark wood. It's calming, as nature often is, and he smiles to himself as a puff of breeze cools him momentarily.
The sound of a barking dog turns his attention to his right, where rows of dilapidated houses have been pieced together with whatever materials could be found. Here and there are broken down cars, laundry strung out to dry on a line, or groups of small children playing ball on this day off from school.
He's nearing the end of the six mile bike trail now, past the Seam and now with a view of a prospering farm to his right, the train track and the woods still to his left. Up ahead is his destination point; the place he always turns around. It's the abandoned shell of a former gas station, now empty and the pumps long gone. The flat, gray concrete walls have been covered in graffiti and looters broke the windows out long ago.
Peeta knows there's nothing inside now, because he's peered into the windows many times. From the very first time he came upon this place, he's dreamed of fixing it up and turning it into his very own vintage goods store. Since he was a kid he has always loved collecting old things—from antique gumball machines to tools that were used 50 years ago and have long since been replaced by machines. This old building near the end of his favorite bike trail seems like the perfect place to house his collection, and sell the pieces he's willing to part with in order to procure even more items, and perpetuate his hobby.
For Peeta, it's all about the find. He loves the old things he brings home, but he loves the hunt even more. He frequently spends his Saturday mornings shopping the local yard sales to find his treasures, and sometimes he drives to neighboring towns to attend the auctions where he can usually pick up an interesting piece or two.
It's a hobby that, unfortunately, his parents can't understand. And as many times as they've berated him about it being a worthless endeavor, he knows they will really flip their lid when he tells them of his latest plan: he's going to buy that old building and open his own shop.
He has it all planned out: he'll re-do the inside, all in sky blue with accents of red. It will have a retro theme, to go with most of the items he tends to collect. But it won't just be a store for buying vintage collectibles; Peeta plans to have a small seating area and sell coffee and other beverages, along with an assortment of baked goods.
He wants it to be a place people feel comfortable coming to just to hang out. Maybe they will stop for a quick rest when they're out riding the bike trail, or perhaps they'll stop in on their way to and from the next town over.
It may be a long shot that his business will even take off, but it's always been Peeta's dream and he plans to give it his best shot. He's still daydreaming about the mural he'll paint all along the outside cement wall when he turns his bike back toward home.
…..
2 years later
Business has been slow, but steady, and Peeta is proud that his first year open as Blue Sky Mercantile has been a success. It took him a while, of course, to get the building renovated, but it's now a perfect manifestation of all his careful plans.
The mural of a sunny, flower filled meadow he painted on the outside wall is the first thing to come into view as he reaches the top of the hill on his bike each day. He loves that he can ride his bike to work, and then spend all day doing what he loves most. His dream job is a reality. Peeta pushes aside the nagging voice in his head (his mothers) that tells him he will fail; go bankrupt and have to start all over. For now, it's more than he ever dreamed.
He unlocks the front door, glancing appreciatively at the careful block lettering arranged there spelling out Blue Sky Mercantile, and the lone bright yellow dandelion that has become his company logo. Inside, the walls are painted a bright blue, much like the sky on a cloudless summer day. Old-fashioned wooden shelving pairs with ceramic countertops and red faux-leather furniture to give the space a clean, retro feel.
Displayed all around the shop are vintage items for sale: sofas, table sets, clocks, even an old arcade game. Just behind the counter where the cash register sits, Peeta has hung some of his own collectibles, not for sale, including a 1920s bicycle resplendent in red and white and chrome. At the edge of the counter, Peeta has mounted his favorite old gumball machine, one of his very first vintage purchases. A little dish sitting next to it supplies pennies that children may use to help themselves to a gumball.
Tucked in a corner is a cozy spot with leather couches and chairs, low shelves and coffee tables filled with books for browsing. A glass display case will soon hold a small selection of fresh baked goods from Peeta's family's bakery, which his brother delivers each morning. Nearby a cappuccino maker and coffee maker allow Peeta to provide a selection of coffee, iced and hot, to those who wish to enjoy a quiet morning.
He didn't forget those who might stop in during a long bike ride, either. Just inside the front door, to the left and nearest the seating area, two large cases hold cold drinks and frozen novelty items for sale, respectively.
Peeta sets his backpack behind the counter and gets to work readying the shop for a busy Saturday. The weekends are always a lot more busy than the weekdays, because that's when many people are out on the bike trail, or passing by in their car as they take the nearby main road out of town.
During the week, he tends to get more serious vintage collectors, stopping in to see what he has recently acquired. And recently, people have even started to bring him items he might be interested in buying for resale.
He's just dusting off his most recent find—a pair of 1930s soda fountain stools—when he hears a rap at the door. It's his brother, Rye, delivering fresh baked goods for Peeta to sell.
"What's up baby brother?" Rye says as Peeta holds the door open for him. Rye is balancing two large metal trays, each filled with scones, turnovers, muffins and other Mellark Bakery pastries. Peeta takes the trays from Rye, one at a time, and slides them into the display case.
"The usual," Peeta replies, offering an easy smile. "How are things at the bakery?"
"Oh you know," says Rye. "The new girl burned a batch of cookies this morning, Dad tried to cover for her and Mom blew a gasket. The usual."
"How many does that make now?" Peeta asks, a smirk gracing his usually gentle features.
"That we've hired to replace you in the bakery?" Rye asks, but Peeta knows it's not really a question. "Let's see, six new assistants in a year; all of them gone before Mom could fire them herself."
"Do you blame them?" Peeta mutters, turning to close up the display case.
Rye lets out a short bark of laughter and replies, "I'll be out of there myself as soon as I can save up enough to move across country. So no, can't say I blame them at all."
Rye is leaning on the countertop, drumming his fingers lazily, but he straightens his position now, preparing to leave. "Speaking of," he says, "I better get on back before Mom freaks out. She hates that I deliver all the way out here to you, but she'd never turn down the profit."
Peeta gives him a wry smile, holding the door open for him on his way out. "See ya tomorrow Rye," he says as his older brother gives him a short wave and jumps back into the bakery truck.
Once Rye is gone, Peeta turns back to the vintage bar stools and contemplates what price he should put on them.