His turnips seemed ripe enough from what he could tell. They certainly weren't the best looking turnips in the world, but they might make him back the price of the seeds at least. He pulled his phone back out and tapped the number under "creepy nerd" he had entered last night. He stared down at his meager harvest and grimaced. This is why he didn't want to do this ranching shit.
After a few minutes of struggling with trying to separate produce from stalk, he held in his hands nine small turnips. He cautiously sat them down in the small wooden box by the mailbox, like Elliot had texted him to, and power walked away like he was afraid of the shipping box spitting them back out at him. He flew to his new coop and grabbed a scoop of chicken feed from by the door.
"Adele?" CJ called out softly. The round chicken wiggled in her nest and came to her new owner. In her wake, the hen had left behind a singular egg. CJ seemed enchanted by it. He picked it up and rolled it gently in his palm.

CJ slipped through the doorway of the animal shop and took extra care to seal the door fully shut this time. Mirabelle greeted him heartily and he politely smiled back. Off by the back wall, Vaughn stood on a ladder rearranging and cleaning the topmost shelf. Mirabelle saw him gazing up at Vaughn and smiled.
"How are ya doin' today, honey?"
CJ jumped a little and turned to Mirabelle. "I... I'm fine."
"Good, good."
CJ turned back to Vaughn and took slow, heavy steps towards him.
"Hey... um... Vaughn? Could I ask you something?"
No response. Mirabelle pursed her lips. CJ almost let a second call out slip, but couldn't find the voice. Vaughn was intently wiping down the old boards, so intently that he didn't even give any response when Mirabelle tried calling out for him the first time either. When she yelled his name again, he jerked his head towards her in surprise.
"CJ's gotta talk to you, hun." She said, almost exasperated. Vaughn silently lowered himself down the ladder before brushing his hands off on his black, worn jeans.
"What?" He said so thin and flat it didn't sound like a question at all.
"Could, could I ask you something, alone?" CJ stuttered. He didn't notice his hands were shaking a little, or that he was still holding the egg.
"No." Was his response, and Vaughn latched both gloved hands back on the ladder and hoisted a boot up on the bottom rung.
"It's... it's about Friday night, when you came over."
Vaughn froze and he stared back at CJ. "What?"
"To drop off my cigarettes."

Vaughn closed his bedroom door behind CJ and folded his arms. His room was almost solid black and plain, with a thick, heavy curtain blocking out what remained of the sunset's light.
"Now, what the hell?" His voice was low and his drawl was thick.
"What?"
"I didn't come by your house."
"Yes you did. I ate dinner with ya'll, and left my cigs, and you brought 'em to me."
"No I didn't."
"Yes, you did. And you healed my hand, somehow. And tried to hypnotize me or something into forgetting. I'm not stupid."
Vaughn looked slightly horrified, but kept his even tone. "I don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about."
"How do you not remember?" CJ threw his hand into Vaughn's face, palm up. "Look at my hand!"
He half-stepped back. "What about it?"
"Exactly! I had a burn mark in the middle of my hand, and you healed it, with like, your blood or something..." CJ trailed off and turned his hand around to glance at it again.
"You're insane."
"No, I'm not," CJ grit his teeth. "Just, tell me how you did it. I don't get it."
"I think you, uh, mighta dreamed that. I don't know."
CJ's shoulders fell and he stared at the ground. "I... I don't know. I... I just... wanted to thank you for it."
Vaughn stared at him in bewilderment. "Uh... okay."
"Here, uh... I want you to have this, I guess, I don't honestly know why I brought it with me, but. Uh..." CJ held up the egg in his other hand.
"...An egg?"
"Uh... yeah."
"…Okay." CJ put it into Vaughn's hand, and their fingers grazed. CJ felt a calm wave flow over him.
"I'll... I'll go now."
"'Kay."

"So, what was that about?" Mirabelle asked after the sound of the door sealing shut filled the room.
"I... may have fucked up." Vaughn pulled his hat down over his eyes.
Mirabelle stepped out from behind the register and walked up to his side. "I'm sure it's fine, son."
"No, it ain't. He remembers me trying to glamour him."
"Vaughn!" Mirabelle scolded and gripped his shoulder. "You do know he's Mark's brother, right? You can't glamour him."
"I didn't know that." Vaughn grimaced. "Shit."
Mirabelle shook her head and squeezed his shoulder. "Why did you even try? I thought you didn't like glamouring folks."
"I..." Vaughn stared at the door. "I don't wanna say. It's his business. None of mine."
"Alright, then. Wait, where did you get that egg?"

CJ's eyes glazed over as Elliot carried on, about three paragraphs deep in his well-rehearsed twenty paragraph essay. He ran his fingers on the inside of his pants pocket on the denim texture in a desperate attempt to stimulate his brain.
"So, according to my scoring rubric, which, by the way-" he handed CJ another laminated sheet, "-here's your copy, I could pay you $26. Is that alright with you?"
"That much for nine shitty turnips?"
"We sell under an organic label. You'd be surprised how much people would pay for non-industrial produce."
"...Uh-huh." CJ immediately fell back out of interest. He tried to read the scoring paper but all the words and numbers ran together like thick oil.
"So... are you doing anything tonight?" The other man asked as he started loading up the turnips.
"Smoking, sleeping, shit like that." CJ said quietly.
"Would you like to go out for dinner with me?"
CJ stared at him. "Are you asking me out?"
"Maybe, maybe not." Elliot smiled, painfully awkwardly.
"I'd... rather not." CJ retreated a little into his orange flannel.
"I'll pay for everything. You can get whatever you want. Please?"
"...Fine."
"Awesome! Now let me get these babies on down to the house and I'll be back to pick you up," Elliot chirped.
"Whatever." CJ dug his hands into his pockets and dove into his shack. He really wanted to shove Elliot in a locker.