On a broilingly warm Tuesday in the middle of July, Kieren Walker typed up his two weeks notice for his job at the deli. He hesitated a few times, considering the times he had been yelled at by customers or butted heads with coworkers, but eventually finished it with a thank-you and a flourish, signing it diligently under his typed was still a few thousand away from his ideal savings stash, but he needed a change, and there was no advancement in his minimum-wage meat slicing career.
He folded the simple letter carefully and tucked it into an envelope, addressing it to his manager, and setting it aside to be handed off on his next shift.
Fifty miles away, a long-haired girl was sitting on the curb, reading, her pale features downturned in attention to the book in her lap. Her companion, a handsome, stately man in a loud sweater, checked his watch and sighed deeply. They had been waiting for this bus for fifteen minutes and from where he could see when he stepped out into the empty, winding road, there was nothing in sight. He joined her in sitting on the curb, pushing her long skirt out of the way of his legs and peeked at her novel.
"It's a new one," she piped up. "Part two in a series about whirlwind teen romances." She batted her lashes at him over her shoulder and then went back to the text. "You know, my life in high school wasn't half this fun. Definitely this dramatic. Did you have any whirlwind romances, Simon?"
"My romances..." her companion started, white eyes scanning the street for the bus as he leaned back on his elbows. "Mine take a while to unfold. I'm not the type to rush things." From down the street, a dog set up a hysterical round of barking. He ran a hand over his hair, setting wild hairs back in place. "Besides, you said it in the past tense, like the possibility is gone."
This prompted her to look back at him, and they gazed for a moment, tempting her to snap that book closed and snuggle a little closer, but she restrained herself and relinquished her reading.
"You..." Amy said warningly. "You're a flirt."
"Am I?" came the mild, innocent reply.
"Out of this world flirt."
"My apologies. We can't help our natures." Simon shot her a pointed look. "Natural or unnatural. Natural charisma is no crime."
Amy drummed up a brilliant smile, soaking up his attention, her page in her book forgotten in her lap. "If it IS a crime, then oh, trespass sweetly urged!"
"Look, our salvation," he joked, and they both rose to their feet at the sight of the bus from up the hill, barreling around the rough country roads, coming down towards their stop.
"To Roarton we come!" piped Amy, and Simon felt a momentary pang of loss, of undesired movement, of uncertainty as her hand brushed his – too close to be unintentional, her fingers sweeping across his in an attempt to engage affection.