Spring Renewal

As the sun rose high in the sky, Violet wiped her brow of the sweat accumulating on her skin and stood back admiring her work. The young woman could hardly believe that she had already been in the Valley half a season. Already Violet could feel that her muscles were getting used to the manual labor each day and her life had fallen into a rhythm of sorts, at least in the mornings. It was strange having so much unstructured free time, but Violet knew she had to use it wisely if she wanted to keep her farm in business and keep Pelican Town out of Joja Corp.'s clutches.

She had several goals in mind for the week: save some money up for the upgraded backpack, improve her fishing skills, continue exploring the mines, donate items to the museum, and fix the small bridge to the eastern beach. Violet realized that the last item on her list was easily obtainable with all the trees she had cleared to make her current garden plot. Perhaps it would be worth taking care of today. Violet returned to her house and made sure to wear cool, but long sleeved clothing to reduce the risk of sunburn. Then after giving Bruno a pat on the head, the farmer headed south toward the river to head to the beach.

As Violet foraged some horseradish and dandelions along the path, she saw a woman standing off to the west. It was Haley, who from the looks of things was taking pictures of the forest with an expensive-looking camera. Huh. Even if the blonde thought that farming was a disgusting profession, she at least appeared to appreciate nature to some extent. Maybe she could give talking to Haley another shot? "Hey, Haley. How's it going?" the farmer asked as she approached.

The blonde either did not hear Violet or ignored her at first, so the newcomer tried again. "Hi Haley! What you are up to out here?"

A deep, exasperated sigh escaped from behind peach-colored lipstick as Haley lowered the camera from her face. "Taking pictures, obvi," Haley explained, clearly annoyed she had been bothered. Her blue eyes scanned Violet and the farmer could see the disgust in Haley's face, but for a brief moment her eyes lit up, "Hey, are those daffodils?"

Violet followed Haley's line of sight to see a bit of yellow poking out of her bag, "Uh, no. Sorry," the farmer said apologetically. "Just some dandelions." She took note that Haley liked daffodils, though. Violet often saw them growing in town or near the bus stop. Maybe giving her a few of those would make Haley more amiable.

Haley face fell and she wrinkled her nose, "Ew. Why are you picking weeds?"

The pastel-haired woman shrugged, "Pierre pays me for them. Apparently the leaves are used in a lot of salads." Violet's dark blue eyes stole a glance at Haley's camera, trying to divert the conversation to something more productive. "So... what kinds of photos do you take?"

"Nature shots. I am in the forest, after all."

Violet nodded. "May I see?" she asked, trying to return the venom with an opposing force.

The blonde hesitated for a moment, "It's not a digital camera," she explained. "I'll have to make a trip to Zuzu City to get the film developed."

"That takes some dedication and commitment since you can't see what you're getting on film right away. You must really like taking pictures."

"Well, it is an excuse to go shopping in the city, too," the blonde said with a coy smile. Haley seemed to appreciate the validation of her choice of medium as well. "Of course, I only take the best shots. Selfies included," she added with a wink. "Though sometimes I'll use my Polaroid so I can see them right away."

"So are you a professional photographer?"

The blonde seemed taken aback by the question. As if no one had ever asked Haley about her passion or if she might have a profession at all. "No," she finally replied. She smiled weakly, "But that would be a lot of fun."

"I'm sure you'd be great at it," Violet told the blonde. "But I would like to see your pictures some time. Let me know when you get them developed!"

Haley seemed to consider this a moment, "If I remember, sure," she responded. That was the best Violet could hope for it seemed, so the farmer bid Haley farewell and continued on toward town.

She stopped almost immediately when she noticed berries on the bushes that had not been there previously. "Oh, I wonder if these are the salmonberries Leah told me about?" Violet wondered to herself. They certainly appeared to fit the description the artist had given her on their foraging hike last week. The woman picked about half of the berries off the bush and collected them in her bag. Pierre would certainly know if they were edible and if not, she could simply dump them back in the forest where some woodland creatures would surely eat them.

The floral-haired woman took her time getting to town. It was such a beautiful spring day and she was in no rush. It was such a strange, welcome change in comparison to her old life. As Violet reached the Square, she noticed several daffodils in the area. She gently wiggled them free from the soil and went back the way she came to the alley between the residences and the river. The beige house with the sun decoration about the door was Haley and Emily's as she now knew, so she replanted the daffodils in the garden box in front of the house, making sure to leave plenty of space for the green sprouts already growing there. Maybe Haley will like that... Violet thought hopefully.

After visiting the general store, Violet headed to the museum to drop off her donations of a quartz, amethyst, and earth crystal. Gunther, smiling broadly at the farmer, tipped his hat to her and said, "For your troubles," as he handed her nine packets of cauliflower seeds.

Violet's mouth was agape for several seconds before she caught herself. Cauliflower seeds were expensive! "Thank you so much, Gunther," the farmer replied, making sure to show the excitement on her face. "I'll plant these later today so they'll mature by the end of the season!" she promised. While the woman was eager to plant her new seeds, there was still plenty of daylight. So, as much as she wanted to run home and prepare plots for her cauliflower, Violet headed south across the river toward the beach. There she saw Elliott, who was willing to speak with her, but it was quickly apparent that he had been crying quietly to himself as he gazed forlornly into the river below. Perhaps a project would help keep his mind off of Cassandra and Edmund.

"I'm going to fix that little bridge to the east side of the beach," she informed her depressed friend. "Would you be willing to assist?"

The author cleared his throat, "I cannot say I am much use when it comes to manual labor," he confessed sheepishly. "I have not any real experience."

Violet beamed at him, trying to keep his spirits up, "Don't worry, I'll make sure you don't do anything too strenuous," she promised her new friend. "I looking for company more than anything. I've never made a bridge before and I might need some moral support if I fail miserably."

Elliott nodded, "In that case, I would be happy to accompany you, miss Violet," the poet replied with a weak smile. Even when he was this sad, Elliott found a way to be his charming self. He quickly dabbed his face with a handkerchief, trying to be as discreet as possible, and tucked it away in his breast pocket. Then, offering her the crook of his arm, Violet looped arms with him and the two set off toward the broken bridge.

The project did not end up being difficult in theory, but fashioning her pieces of wood together in properly arranged planks was another issue. With Elliott's help, the two laid out the wood on the beach and rearranged it several times before finally securing the materials together. "Ready for the moment of truth?" Violet asked her companion, as she erected the finished product on their side of the beach. "Once I drop this it's either going to snap, or..." the farmer's dark blue eyes scanned the river below her. The water was not deep, so she was not worried she would be drown, but the current was swift. She might be rolled downstream a bit a made to look like a fool, but she could live with that.

"Do what you must," Elliott said gravely, backing away from there there river spilled out to the sea. "If our work was not enough, we shall simply have to make another attempt," he reasoned. Sizing up the boards, the author opted to take a few more steps toward his cottage. He did not want to risk being splashed.

Closing her eyes, Violet let go and allowed the new plank bridge to fall into place. The woman was sprayed by the water as the wood made contact near the shore, but the planks held fast overall and bridged the gap between the two sides of the river. Glancing back at Elliott to make sure he was close in case of an accident, Violet decided to give crossing their new overpass a try. The boards creaked beneath her weight, but nothing visibly budged. Violet turned around to face her friend and hopped on one foot atop the bridge, "I think we did it!" she announced confidently.

After a few gingerly steps onto the bridge, Elliott deemed the bridge safe as well and joined his companion on the eastern beach. As the two combed the beach for items of interest, Elliott spoke up. "Thank you for the distraction this afternoon, miss Violet," he said appreciatively. "I am afraid that my writing caused me to reflect on some rather unpleasant memories..." he paused, gazing at a crab at the bottom of one of the tide pools. With its hefty claws, it tore a small fish clean in half and began devouring its prey. "Perhaps I was too blinded by my infatuation with Cassandra that I did not see what was right in front of me."

Violet, standing beside him, nodded understandingly. "Love will do that, huh?" she replied with a nervous chuckle. "You're not the only one, so you don't have to feel alone about it."

Elliott thick brows arched questioningly, "You were once stung by Cupid's arrow, miss Violet?"

The farmer grimaced, "I'm not sure I would call it 'Cupid's arrow,' but I had a pretty bad relationship with someone I trusted as a friend first." The flowery-haired woman squirmed uncomfortably at the rush of memories. "Looking back, it was clear he took advantage of me. But I think I just wanted someone to notice me so badly..." Elliott noticed the far-off look in Violet's eyes as she trailed off. As if her memories were swallowing her from the inside. He place a gentle hand on her shoulder, then after several moments of shared silence, the farmer exhaled sharply, exorcising the lingering shadows in the back corner of her mind. The young woman made an effort to smile at Elliott to reassure him she was okay, but the man could tell it was for his sake, not because she felt happy in that moment.

"It seems we both have heartache in our past" he whispered, lifting her chin up with his fingertips and then placing his hands on her shoulders. "But perhaps it is time for the both of us to carry on with out lives."

Violet nodded in agreement and Elliott pulled her into a hug. It was unexpected, but welcome. The hug was a gentle, comforting embrace. One that they clearly each needed. The farmer's head nestled right into the poet's chest due to their height difference. Violet was not about to complain how good it felt and wrapped her arms around her companion to return the hug. It was nice to get this sort of platonic affection without all the melodrama of romantic interest. Violet was reminded how Bex's hugs always made her feel better, too. She wondered how Elliott and Bex would get along.

Violet turned her head upward to look upward at Elliott's face, but it was cloaked by the veil of his long silky hair. "Just... a moment longer, if you please," he requested quietly. The shakiness of his voice made Violet give her friend a more robust squeeze as she lowered her head again. His wounds were a little more fresh and applying pressure was always a good step toward mending it, after all.

She smiled again, this time earnestly. "You give awesome hugs, Elliott. Has anyone ever told you that?"

The author slowly untangled himself from the farmer and she could tell from the hue of his face that he was somewhat embarrassed by the compliment, "You are the first to say so," he admitted bashfully. Violet could not help but think it was precious how flustered Elliott was over a compliment about his quality hugs. Now the farmer definitely had to find her friend someone who would both love and respect him or she would never forgive herself.

"I don't know about you, but I feel refreshed and ready to go!" Violet chuckled, grabbing her pole out of her bag. "I'm going to fish off the pier. Would you like to join me?"

The author smiled apologetically. "I should get back to my work," he said reluctantly. "I appreciate your generous offers of distraction, however. Please do not let my declination of your invitation discourage future requests for companionship." Elliott brushed his locks away from his face to better see Violet. "And I thank you again, miss Violet..." He hesitated, scouring his vocabulary for the right words. "I feel as if conversations such as the one we just had bear a bit of one's soul." His amber eyes stole a glance at his companion. "And I am honored that you shared such an intimate detail about your life with someone like me. Even if neither of us went into specifics, talking about it eased my mind a little."

Violet, averting her gaze, shuffled her foot in the sand, "Eh, don't mention it." She chuckled to herself, "It's more word-vomit on my end, but you have a beautiful way of looking at the world. Don't ever change that, okay?" She winked at him playfully, "Now go write the next great novel!" she ordered before heading off to the pier. "I can't wait to read it."

Elliott watched her go, wondering to himself how it was that some people simply came into their lives and seemed to fit so perfectly. Like old friends who could pick up where they last left off without a second thought. The poet in him believed it might be residual friendship from a past life but who really knew the truth of it all? The well-kept man smiled to himself and returned to his cottage with a new writing prompt in mind.

Sam bobbed his head to the music playing in his headphones as he swept the floor at Joja Mart. While maintaining the cleanliness of the store was not his main responsibility there were not many customers that came to the store and those that did had already been customers for quite some time and knew where their favorite products were located in the store. So, more often than not, Sam dedicated his time to keeping the place spotless and jamming to his music to help the time pass. Cheryl and Shane did not care about Sam listening to his headphones, so he did not have to worry about hiding his headphones under his jacket when they were around but Morris seemed determined to keep his employees miserably alert to the lack of business. Still, the place seemed to stay open just fine, even if Sam was pretty sure the place operated at a loss to the company overall. The blond had to wonder if this place was a front. Sam liked entertaining the idea and he and Cheryl would occasionally make wild guesses as to what Joja Corp. really did to turn a profit. Shane would occasionally join in, but usually he would loiter off to the side and listen in without actively participating. The only reason Sam knew Shane actually listened to the conversations was because once while Sam was on a well-thought-out but ridiculous rant about Joja Corp.'s imaginary partnership with Area 51, Shane snorted with laughter and ended up choking on his own saliva for a moment before disappearing into the back to recover.

So while his neighbor and co-worker was not the most social guy, Same knew that Shane, like everyone else in this depressing joint, still needed some entertainment throughout the day. The blond never ratted out Shane for swiping whole pizzas from the back room, either. It was an unspoken rule between the villagers that petty theft from a giant mega corporation was not all that bad. They had infringed on the small town aesthetic, even if it did employ a few of the local residents. While Sam was not particularly proud to work for Joja Mart, when he had worked for the museum part-time, Gunther had not exactly paid Sam for his time. The skater had unintentionally applied for a volunteer position, though he should have known better because Lewis was always going on about how Pelican Town did not have the budget for trivial things like museum funding or skate parks. There was a conspiracy theory that the Mayor just used his key to clean out the museum and sell the artifacts for money, rather than Gunther's insistence that there had been a robbery. Sam would prefer not to think their Mayor was that corrupt, but he had to wonder at times.

The blond saw Shane stacking cans on the shelf from the corner of his eye and starting sweeping the floor in the scruffy man's direction. "How's it going, fam?" Sam said casually in greeting. Shane did not notice and continued about his business, but the blond knew how his co-worker operated. "Great job with the Egg Festival. If I weren't so stuffed up from the allergies, I would enjoy the good food more."

Shane shrugged, still not looking at the part-timer. "Gus made the food and Emily dyed the eggs. I didn't do much. I just collected eggs from the hens."

Sam leaned against the shelf to better see Shane's face, "Yeah, but your the one who raises and takes care of the hens, right?" he reasoned. "Without you we wouldn't have any eggs in town at all."

The older man rubbed his stubble uncomfortably. "Well if this place has a say in it, I'll be force out of business. Unless I sell them the eggs at a fraction of the price that Pierre buys them."

The part-timer frowned, "That's no good, fam." He suddenly did not feel so badly about his occasional petty theft of a Joja cola. "What are you going to do?"

Shane frowned, "I work here full-time," he said with a sigh. "So I guess if I'm not a poultry farmer anymore, this would be it for me." The tone of his voice made Sam wary of the possibility. No one wanted a local to lose their business because of this place. The blond felt badly that so many local shopped here, but with the prices, it was hard for Pierre's to compete for affordability. Sam felt determined to do something, but what? "We won't let it happen, Shane," the part-timer vowed. "So don't sweat over it."

A scoff escaped Shane. "Yeah, best of luck with that one, Sam," he replied doubtfully. The scruffy man went back to his work, signaling the end of his part in the conversation.

The skater backed off down the length of the aisle and grinned, "Well, even if you don't believe me, you won't just be a Joja man. You've got Emily, after all." With that he winked and scurried off in a hurry.

The full-timer froze. What was that supposed to mean? What about Emily? Did she say something to Sam? His mind began to race at the possible topics of conversation Sam and Emily could have regarding the junior town drunk. "Have Emily for what? Moral support?" he mutter to himself. The sapphire-haired woman did always have an encouraging word for him, but that did not mean that Shane was not doomed to fail. Some people were just worthless - and he was one of them. This was all his life was going to be day in and day out. He was never going to be anything worth while to anyone or anything. No one would miss or mourn him when he was gone, he should just end - He shook his head. "Stop," he begged his mind. "Just stop it..."

Abigail stood on the northern stone bridge overlooking the river like she did most weekdays. She stared at the tiny fish lurking beneath the shadow of the overpass and sighed heavily. Sam had texted her several times to check up on her since the night of the Egg Festival, but she chose not to respond. Abigail had left so quickly after she told Sam about her struggle with her own feelings toward him and she was scared to see him in person again. And yet here she was, considering entry into the place her father had forbidden her to ever step foot, just to talk to Sam. It would be irresponsible of her to bother her friend while he worked, but part of her thought it might be safer to speak in a semi-public place. Not because she worried Sam would act out, but because Abigail would keep herself in check. "Ugh, what should I do?" she muttered miserably.

She wanted to talk to Sam, but she simultaneously dreaded it. The amethyst-haired woman knew he would just sit there politely and not try to sway her one way or another. Abigail could practically hear it now: "It's cool no matter what you decide, Abi," he would say. It was infuriating. Why could Sam just not say what he wanted? Why all the beating around the bush and "boyfriend material" jokes? Why not just... ask her to be his girlfriend?!

"UGH! I hate this!" she shouted at the ground, her head still resting on the rough stone of the bridge. Abigail considered the possibility that she would have to initiate the relationship. She loathed that idea. What if it did not work out and she and Sam ended up hating each other? Abigail did not want to take the blame for the beginning of the end of their friend group. But... what if it did work out? The woman felt the butterflies flutter in her stomach at the thought.

"So what do you hate so much?" a voice asked from behind her.

Abigail jumped, alarmed by the sudden intrusion of her inner dialogue. She turned to find Alex standing there with an obnoxious smirk on his face. Like he enjoyed that he surprised her. "What are you doing sneaking up on people?" she demanded angrily.

Alex crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one foot, holding his dog's leash in the opposite hand. "Well excuse me for going toward the sound of a damsel in distress when I hear a girl screaming. I was just minding my own business playing with Dusty," he shot back defensively, as Dusty's nose twitched to sniff Abigail. "What has you so worked up anyway?" he questioned in annoyance. "You're clearly not hurt or anything."

Abigail wanted to continue to be frustrated at Alex, but Dusty's nuzzles against her leg made it difficult to stay mad. She lowered herself to pet the old dog, and Dusty woofed happily. "I'm just... frustrated about something," Abigail admitted vaguely. "I don't know if it's worth the risk to try..."

The jock laughed, "Isn't everything a risk?" he asked with a shrug. "You got outta bed this morning didn't you?"

The woman wiggled her fingers under Dusty's collar to give him a good scratch and the tawny dog responded by thumping his hind leg against the ground. "That's way oversimplified," she argued. "If I do the thing I want to do, it could destroy my friend group."

"Are you going to kill someone? Insult their mom? Call them a thief?"

Her light blue eyes darted to meet Alex's in exasperation. "No."

The brunet shrugged. "Then what's the problem? You too weak to do it?" he teased.

"This has nothing to do with physical strength!" Abigail shouted in irritation.

Alex smiled, his white teeth more striking against his bronzed skin. "Well, then it should be no problem for a girl, right?"

Abigail's lips twisted into a scowl as she rose to her full height, "You sexist idiot!" she screamed, balling her fists at her side. Her fingernails dug into her palms slightly as she continued, "What the hell do you know about asking someone out?!"

The jock seemed genuinely surprised that Abigail revealed what was troubling her, even if it seemed to be on accident. Abigail hated the smirk that crept onto the brunet's tanned face. "Oh, so it's in the love department," he said with a waggle to his eyebrows. "Look, I'm flattered, but you're not my type..."

"It's not you, dumbass!" the pale woman hollered. Why was this guy so vexing? "It's -" she caught herself this time, "... someone else!"

"You don't have a problem telling someone off, so asking someone out should be easy-peasy, right?" Whether it was coincidence or good training, Dusty lowered his ears and appeared to nod in agreement.

"I know what he's going to say, I just don't know if I'm ready to start dating," Abigail revealed, rubbing her arm anxiously. "I don't want this all to crash and burn and ruin our friendship in the process."

Alex frowned, "That's the dumbest shit I ever heard," he informed the woman, without hesitation. "If you're good friends now and try out the dating thing, at least you'll know it didn't work." He shrugged, "If you like each other and you don't do anything about it, you're gonna spend your whole life wondering what it would've been like." His spiky hair bounced slightly as he shook his head, "And I ain't about living life full of regrets. I work toward my goal of going pro every single day." The brunet looped the leash around his palm again and started to head back west toward home, "So go tell the guy and stop worrying about it," Alex ordered her. He turned his head toward her for a brief moment to add, "'Sides, guys like it when a girl is bold enough to make the first move." Dusty pulled his human away back toward the house, presumably catching the scent of something interesting.

Abigail watched him go both out of relief and confusion. While "going pro" was not even remotely a goal in her life, did Alex just give... decent advice? Her light blue eyes blinked slowly. Huh. Maybe there were some things she had yet to explore in Pelican Town.

Strangely, Alex's talk made Abigail feel emboldened. Or, at the very least fueled with motivation to prove Alex that she was not weak. She was a swords-woman-in-training and no one would stop her from getting what she wanted, not even her own anxiety! The amethyst-haired woman marched toward Joja Mart and flung the glass doors open and announced her presence. "SAMSON GABRIEL!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, making the red-headed woman at the cash register jump nearly a foot in the air from surprise. Morris had emergency protocol in case the competition came to Joja Mart in-person, but she never thought it would be relevant.

"I'm here in peace, calm down, Cheryl," Abigail snapped at the Joja Mart employee. "I'm looking for Sam."

The cashier, not entirely convinced, kept a close eye on their competitor's daughter as she charged toward the break room. "Y-you're n-not allowed back there. Employees only!" the ginger called after Abigail, who paid her no mind.

Shane, who hardly ever seemed phased by goings-on in the store, poked his head out from the aisle he was restocking to see what the commotion was about. However, upon seeing the fire in Abigail's eyes he quickly scrambled out of the way and redirected Abigail toward the opposite corner of the store, where Sam could been seen sweeping. The woman bull-rushed Sam directly into the cooler doors behind him, who stared at her with wide-eyed surprise. He blinked in surprise, lowering his headphones from his ears and turning the volume down. "Oh hey, Abi..." he said cautiously, studying her face. The blond clearly thought he was in some sort of trouble, though he could not fathom what he could have possibly done.

Before Abigail could even think of what to say to Sam, she leaned into his body and pressed her lips against his. His mouth was warm and soft - and once he got over the initial shock, Sam began to kiss her back. The fear that held Abigail back so long started to flutter away with the butterflies in her stomach. Sam snaked his arms around her waist and Abigail looped hers around his neck as they made out right there in the middle of Joja Mart. The two were not sure how long they had been going at it when someone cleared their throat to get their attention. "Ahem." It was Morris. He stood next to the couple and adjusted his bow tie, "Sam, while I do not care what you do during your personal time off the clock, I will not allow you to collect payment while swapping saliva with the enemy!" he hissed through his teeth. "So make a decision on your next course of action very carefully, young man."

Without a word, Abigail waved the manager aside, not releasing Sam from her grip just yet. Morris scoffed indignantly and took a step back. After taking a moment to regain his composure, the manager gave an ultimatum. "Sam, I insist you clock out now and leave or you will be fired! Either way, you will be written up for this inexcusable behavior."

Sam reluctantly tapped Abigail on the shoulder to indicate they should stop. The woman did so, although she gave Morris the stink eye as she passed the manager to exit the building and wait for Sam outside. The blond went the opposite way toward the break room, "Sorry, Mr. Morris," he apologized with goofy, wide grin that suggested he was not at all sorry for what just happened. "The competition is fierce around here," he said with a wink as he disappeared into the back.