I won the Ice Festival fishing contest again, but it was a seriously close race this time. I only caught the winning fish within the last ten seconds; it was easily looking like Willy and I were going to share the victory. He seemed proud of me once again, but I once again had to wonder how he really felt about some random chick moving in and beating him at his game.
Then yeah, Sam and I shot the shit for a little bit. We wondered how they put the fish ponds for the contest together so quickly, and I asked if he'd like to give the contest a shot at some point, to which he replied that he'd consider it.
...But if dreams are supposed to be your brain's way of processing the day, why the fuck did my brain choose to go the direction it did?
I was at a funeral. Everyone was standing at their seats and weeping. Thinking back, the crowd were solely Stardew Valley citizens... and one person was very clearly missing... but in my dazed in-dream state, that didn't register.
I had started out at the back of the room, behind everyone. Quickly, though, I was walking forward, down the aisle, toward the casket.
The next thing I remember... I still remember it so vividly. Despite everything being okay in reality, I swear to Yoba, I'm still haunted by it.
...He didn't even look that dead, aside from the fact that was completely still and breathless. His locks didn't look any less golden.
But I then read the pamphlet laying on the floor at my feet.
Sam. Death via cerebral trauma from an injury in the mines. It was him.
...And then I woke up. And it was fucking weird, being sat up in my bed and shivering over something that hadn't really happened... at least I hoped. I'd properly woken up before my brain could even process a proper reaction to Sam's "death."
Sooner than I would've expected, though, the shivering stopped, and I gained the power to go about my day.
Though let me tell you... most of the day was off.
As I fed Laslow, then myself, I tried to bite back the thoughts that my dreams were indicative of the immediate future. Sure, people had had psychic dreams before... including myself... but what were the real odds?
As I walked through town, I tried to bite back the thought that Sam would suddenly decide to try going down in the mines himself. He seemed like he trusted my and Sebastian's judgement at the end of that one day, but... people could be incredibly unpredictable.
And each passing moment that went by, that I fished alone and the sun moved across the sky... and eventually as the sky clouded over... the anxiety I'd tried to bite back got the better and better of me.
If he'd gone missing, somebody would have said something by now. In fact, his mom aside, I'd probably be the first one to ask. What did that say about how close we were, by the way?
...But still, what if he really was sitting at the bottom of the earth?
"Holy CRAP, today was awful!"
That voice sent all my anxious thoughts into the ocean, and the world looked and sounded clearer.
Before I knew it, there Sam was, sitting beside me, not sitting at the bottom of the earth under some rocks... and he was in his work uniform?
"Damn," I replied. "That bad?"
"I'm so sore, man," he groaned. "I had the supervisor today that never seems to want to give me a break. When I asked her when my lunch break was, you wanna know what she said? 'When I give it to you.'"
When he'd recited what the woman had said, he'd used a really condescending, sneering tone. My blood began to boil at the thought that some corporate-ass bitch had spoken to my Sam that way.
"I don't know what she looks like," I told him, the irritation flowing from my voice. "But she looks 1000% punchable. That's... That's not fucking right."
He sat in silence for a second. He stared out at the ocean, his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.
The look on his face spelled clearly that he was thinking about something serious.
I'd soon come to find how correct that assessment was.
Sitting up straight, he said, more seriously than I'd heard him say anything in ages, say "I'm quitting."
"Wait, what?" I asked without thinking.
"I said I'm quitting," he replied.
It sounded serious again the second time. He meant it.
"...Truth is..." he continued. "The museum's hiring. I saw it and put it at the back of my mind... but it should have been painfully obvious from the start that I was looking at a fucking escape route."
...A fucking escape route... That's what my grandpa had left me. I didn't even know it, either, until I was at a point in my life when I would have taken whatever was in that envelope, even if it was a $5 gift card to my favorite hot dog place.
Sam, meanwhile, had the process streamlined for him; a way better place was hiring. Simple as that.
As of this moment, Sam and I were escapees of Joja.
I hoped many more like us could find their escape routes, too. Imagine Joja being drained of their most valuable resource.
And one little childish part of me wondered if this was a sign that Sam and I were connected through time and space, like soulmates... or something. Imagine two Joja escapees conquering the world together.
All of this, plus the lingering relief that my rogue nightmare hadn't come true, and the fact that Sam could be happier now... It all meshed together into a chest-crushing desire to hug him. Unfortunately, however, I couldn't find a good segue into doing so, or work up the courage in general. Though the sight of him was ultimately enough, the winter air was that much colder.
"Hell yeah," I smiled. "I'm so happy you can finally get out of that hellscape."
"Heh..." said Sam. "Just like you did, right?"
Wow, way to read my mind.
"Y-Yeah, though... it was a little different for me," I said. "I wish the perfect job posting had come up out of nowhere. Then again, I... guess if that had happened, I wouldn't have come here, so... I guess I'm happy things went the uncertain way they did."
Shit, I'd just leapt right into a dialogue about myself again. The words just kept connecting to each other.
"Yeah..." Sam nodded, as if he agreed.
He then looked at his watch.
"Shoot, if I want to put in my two weeks tomorrow, I'd probably get home and write it," he said, standing up. "See ya tomorrow!"
"See ya!" I waved as he left.
Hopefully, I'd never have to see him in that cursed blue uniform again.
Author's note: Unfortunately... Sam's experience is based on a true story.