Sage is fucking miserable and soaked. Her thin t-shirt clings to her slight frame and her teeth chatter. A chilly rain hammers Zuzu City. Someone stole her umbrella during her shift, yet another fuck you from Joja. The storm drenched her as soon as she left the dingy mid-rise office building, another double-shift in the books.

So here she is, sodden and freezing. Her back aches from hunching over a computer all day. A car speeds by, honking and tossing a wave of dirty rainwater across her legs, soaking into her boots. Super cool, she thinks.

The air stinks of exhaust fumes, piss, and wet dog. Skyscrapers tower around her, predators closing in, their lights like countless eyes staring her down.

"Hey baby! You wanna have a good time? That shirt would look better on the ground!" Two men call to her from a dark alley. They're much older, with guts that hang out of their stained shirts. They wear hard hats and safety vests. Construction workers, but they're not doing a lot of working.

Keep walking, she tells herself. Look like you're on a mission. Ignore them. The men jeer after her as she walks past, head held high. "Ehh, you're not worth it, anyway! Be that way, bitch!" Sage darts through a crosswalk, dodging cars. The voices fade.

It's payday, which should cheer her up. But her already skimpy paycheck doesn't stretch far. Rent's due, and so are bills. After that, she's left with roughly $100 to feed three people for the next couple weeks.

Sage's boots squelch against concrete as she steps into her apartment building. From one shoddy mid-rise to another. Chips cover the brick exterior, and the inside's no better. Old, stained wallpaper, probably from the 60s at the latest, peels in the corners of the mailroom. Stinks of dirty shoes and smoke. The dark red carpet's threadbare under her feet. She climbs the creaking stairs to her apartment, two floors up.

The front door's stuck again. Something the landlord promised to fix. Years ago. She slams her hip into it, forcing it open. Sage pries off her sodden boots. Her stomach's screaming at her, but there's nothing in the fridge but a container of baking soda and some expired soy sauce. Same story with the cupboards. She sighs. Does that a lot lately. Same shit, different day.

The lights are dim in the living room. She glances in and scowls at the scene waiting for her. Like rag dolls, Sage's parents slump over the couch. Shattered bottles litter the scuffed wooden floor. A dark bruise blooms on her mother's eye, but she's too high on Yoba-knows-what to respond when Sage asks if she's okay.

She already knows what happened, anyway. It's the same old story. Her parents took too much of whatever their drug of the day is, and fought about something stupid. Her father always gets violent when he's drunk or high. She's been at the receiving end enough times to know by now.

Used needles lay on the rug under the couch. Plates of old food scraps litter the coffee table, flies buzzing around them, the stench of it pervading the room. Sage holds her wet shirt over her nose as her stomach roils. Nothing new at home. This is how it's been since Sage was fourteen, and her parents decided work was less important than drugs. She's supported them since then.

It was disgustingly easy, finding a corporation to hire an obvious fourteen-year-old lying about her age. And that's how the past eleven years have gone. Sage considers herself lucky - she at least graduated from high school. Not everyone who lives in her neighborhood, Bell Center, has that privilege. It got easier after that, after she didn't have to balance both work and studies. So here she is again.

She tiptoes into her room, eases the door shut. She figures she'll mail the rent check when she leaves to find something to eat. Sage digs in the drawers of her desk, looking for spare bills and change. An envelope catches her eye. A forgotten birthday card? Maybe there's money inside. She opens it, and a letter falls out. The handwriting is flowery, meticulous in its tidiness.

Sage,

There may come a time when the world is too much for you. If that happens, use this.

I know your life isn't easy. If you're ready to start over, I've left my farm in Pelican Town to you. Use it as you see fit.

I love you,

Grandpa Charlie

Sage squints at the letter, hazy memories coming into focus. Her grandpa died about three years ago. She didn't even go to his funeral, couldn't get time off of work. Couldn't afford to lose her job. They were never very close, but she remembers visiting him on his farm as a kid. Before the drugs completely took over her parents' lives. She frowns. How could she have forgotten this? Inside the envelope is a deed, signed with her name.

Minutes pass as Sage stares at the paper. You know what? Fuck this. She grabs her bag, tucks the deed into it, and scrounges up some cash. She tiptoes back into the living room. Her father's snoring, hanging halfway off the couch. Sage pries open the front door and takes the steps two at a time.

Outside, the rain's let up. It's a light mist now, little droplets hovering in the air. Still stinks of piss and fumes. Sage jogs a few blocks down the sidewalk and hails a left, ducking into the library. She finds a computer and types her grandfather's old address into Google.

Pelican Town is around three hours away by bus. There's even a website. It's quaint, simple. Looks like someone made it in the mid nineties and hasn't updated it since. A number for a "Mayor Lewis" is listed at the bottom.

Sage punches it into her phone and leaves the library, presses the call button. It rings for almost a minute, and she's about to hang up when a gruff voice answers.

"This is Lewis. Who am I speaking to?"

Sage almost drops the phone. Adrenaline surges through her, making her hands tremble. Actually contacting someone makes this way more real.

"Uh, hi. My name is Sage. Sage Sandoval. I found your number on your website. Um, I have a deed to a farm outside your town? It belonged to Charles Sandoval. He left it to me in his will."

The man she assumes is the mayor grunts. "Ah! Old Charlie. Was terribly sad when he passed. Well, if you have the deed, the land's yours. Are you looking to sell it?"

"No! Er, no. I want to live on it. Is the house still standing?" Sage drums her fingers on her leg. She can remember bits and pieces of the farmhouse. It's simple, one room lit by a large picture window with a kitchen and bathroom. But it's away from here.

Lewis clears his throat. "It is, though not in the best condition. The land's pretty overgrown, too. Are you sure you want to live there?"

"Yes. When's the soonest I can arrive?" She shifts from one foot to the other, glancing at the litter-filled streets.

There's a pause, then the sound of pages turning. "Tomorrow, I suppose. I can send our resident carpenter over the day after to make sure the wiring is still sound."

Sage lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Great, thank you. I'll arrive tomorrow by bus. I'll call you when I'm close." She snaps her phone shut. This is happening. She's getting the fuck out of Zuzu City. Out of Bell Center.

She dials one last number. A bored male voice answers. Joshua, her supervisor. Sage's tone is terse. "Joshua. It's Sage. I'm quitting."

Joshua sputters. "What do you mean, you're quitting?! No, no, you're not. You're one of our best agents. We need you here. We need-"

"It wasn't a request. I won't be coming in anymore." Sage ends the call. She grins despite her shaking hands. That felt fucking good.

On her way back, Sage grabs an energy drink and a bag of chips. Her fingers twitch against the can as she downs her paltry meal. She's never done something like this before. Run away. It feels kind of silly to think of it like that. She's twenty-five, after all. If not for her miserable excuses for parents, she would have had a place of her own years ago.

She almost feels like a kid again, about to walk into trouble as she steps into the apartment. Her parents haven't moved a bit since she left. They're out cold, probably will be for the rest of the night. Good.

Sage drags her suitcase from under the bed. She piles everything she can in - clothes, her comforter, sheets, pillow, some books and personal items. She drags it out to the kitchen, swipes some of the silverware and dishes. Wraps the breakables in a pillowcase and stuffs them in, along with some cups. Why shouldn't she, she thinks. She bought them, after all.

Her backpack thuds onto the counter as she roots through it, looking for something to write on. In her search, the rent check brushes against her hands. She tears it up, throws it in the overflowing trash. Finally, she finds an old bill. Scrawls a note on it.

I've provided for you since I was fourteen. I'm done. Goodbye. Don't try to contact me.

Sage places the note on the fly-infested table, then turns and grabs her luggage. With effort, she pries the stuck door open. She leaves, and doesn't look back.

She doesn't look back, or stop at all, until she reaches the bus station, several train transfers later. It's as dirty and gloomy as the rest of Bell Center. Bits of broken glass and empty soda cans cover the chipped tile floor. The attendant sits behind three inches of bullet-proof glass. People sleep on the benches, huddled under shabby blankets.

Sage drags her suitcase to the counter and taps on the glass. The attendant looks at her, eyes blank. His name tag says "Andrew". Dark brown hair hangs in his eyes. He's chewing gum, blows a bubble. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah. I need the next ticket to Pelican Town." She pulls her backpack from her shoulder, ready to dish out whatever it costs.

Andrew punches a few keys at the computer to his side. "Next bus leaves tomorrow at 3:00 pm. Forty bucks."

Sage blanches, but grits her teeth. Forty dollars to get the hell out of Zuzu, fine. She'll do it. She forks over the cash and takes her ticket. The attendant looks at her, an eyebrow raised. "Watch yourself while you're here."

"Thanks. Will do." Sage glances at her phone. 11:30 pm. It's going to be a long wait. She sighs, grabs some snacks and another energy drink from the vending machine. It takes her money twice before delivering. A final "fuck you" from Zuzu City.

She spends the night alternating between dozing, reading, and watching people come and go from the station. Sage keeps her eyes peeled for her parents, half expecting them to show up in a drug fueled rage. They'll be pissed when they realize she's gone.

When the bus finally arrives, Sage staggers up, leans on the wall for support.

Outside, fumes fill her lungs as the bus idles. Her suitcase bumps against its stairs. She collapses into the first seat she finds, already out of breath. Cheek pressed against the window, Sage takes her last look at the city before closing her eyes. Good riddance.

A voice jerks her out of her sleep. "Pelican Town, Pelican Town in five minutes!" Sage jolts up and whirls around. She's the only person left. Drool plasters her short blonde hair to her cheek. Gross. Cannot wait to shower. She sweeps it back, wipes her sleeve against her face. Between the trashed apartment, squalid bus station, and rickety bus, she feels like she's covered in germs.

Brakes screech as they stop in front of Pelican Town's bus station, which is…more of a sign, and less of a station. Stepping out, Sage breathes in deep. The air's much cleaner here, filled with the scent of grass, flowers, and sunbaked earth.

This is it, then. Her new start. She turns to the bus driver as he unloads her belongings. "Hey, sir? Do you know how to get to Charlie Sandoval's farm?"

His brows shoot up. "That old place still exists?" He points at a dirt road extending south. "Head that way. You'll see signs pointing you in the right direction."

"Thanks!" Sage drags her suitcase along the bumpy path. The wheels catch on pebbles and clumps of dirt, and her stomach's growling, but she's free. She dials Lewis' number.

"Sage? Is that you?"

She's a little breathless as she answers. "Hi, yes. The bus just dropped me off. I'm headed toward the farm now. Is, uh, the carpenter still meeting me tomorrow?"

In the background she hears jingling keys and the scrape of chair legs against a wooden floor. "Yeah. Her name's Robin. I'll meet you there in a bit and give you the keys." He hangs up.

Sage looks around, really takes in the scenery. Large oak trees frame the dirt trail. Their branches meet in the middle, forming a canopy overhead. New buds dot across the limbs. A weathered wooden fence lines the path, broken in some places.

She's breathing hard, starting to regret bringing so much when the sound of an engine creeps up. A large blue truck crunches over the road and stops behind her. The window rolls down, and a man with gray hair and a brown flat cap leans out. His trimmed mustache twitches as he smiles. "Hi, you must be Sage. I'm Lewis. Hop in, I'll take you the rest of the way."

At first, she hesitates. In the city, shit like this would never fly. No one offers you a free ride without an ulterior motive. But, it's definitely the same Lewis she talked to on the phone. Same gruff voice.

And her suitcase is stupid heavy.

She heaves it into the truck's bed and climbs into the passenger side. The seats are cushy and smell of new leather. Mayor Lewis must do well for himself. He makes friendly small talk as they glide toward the farm. Sage is quiet, still absorbing everything. Finally, the farmhouse - her farmhouse - comes into view.

It's shabby, but she's used to shabby. The log exterior's green paint is mostly chipped off, exposing the light wood underneath. A step is missing from the porch, but the house itself seems solid enough, at least from the outside.

The land is a different story. Weeds and wild grass cover the entire property. Sage spots a chicken coop not far from the house, and a shed behind. A silo rests nearby. Under all the plant life, there's a foundation here. She thinks she can make something of it. Has to make something of it. Failing isn't an option.

Lewis is rambling as they hop out. "Anyway, I know this place is overgrown, but I hope you can turn it around. A farm would be great for the town's economy." He presses a set of keys into her palm. "Well, that's about it. I made sure the electricity and water are still on. If you need anything, feel free to call. And make sure to visit Pelican Town soon - it's about a twenty minute walk down the road."

He stands a couple moments longer, hands in his pockets, surveying the land in the dying sunlight. "See you in town, Sage." His truck roars to life and disappears onto the dirt path.

Sage is alone. As far as she can tell, no one lives nearby, not as far as she can see. Her palms are a little clammy. She's been functioning on sheer adrenaline since she found the deed. Now that she's actually here, her body freezes. Not sure how to handle the newfound freedom after eleven years of the same routine. A chill pervades the air as the sun sinks below the trees beyond the farm.

She supposes the best place to start is the house itself. The steps creak under her weight. The hinges are rusty, but the door doesn't fall off. A good first step. Sage flips a switch and a single overhead light flickers on.

The house is almost empty, save for a few pieces of furniture. An old dresser, a round table with a couple of chairs, an ancient looking microwave and kettle, and a short bookshelf. The air is stuffy, the surfaces caked in dust. A giant picture window graces the center of the left wall. Sage opens it, lets the breeze breathe life into the house.

There's a closet in the back of the room, by the bathroom. She looks inside and finds a broom and some cloths. Perfect. Sage wets one under the sink's tap. It's squeaky, and the sink itself is a little dirty, but it works. She goes over the counters and surfaces, wiping all the dust away.

The bathroom is minimal. A claw-foot tub with a shower head, and a simple sink with a medicine cabinet built into the wall. Another large window facing south. The walls and floor are tile, chipped in places, but functional.

After she's wiped the bathroom clean, Sage attacks the floors with the broom. Little clouds of debris float along the wooden planks as she pushes it all toward the door. After a solid hour of work, it's finally clean. For good measure, Sage takes another wet cloth and scrubs the floors.

The little house looks more liveable now. Sage digs out her shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and a towel from her suitcase. The hot water works, to her relief. She scrubs the dirt and grime of the past 48 hours away, watches it wash into the drain. Likes to think her old life is washing away, too.

When she's clean and dry, Sage spreads her sleeping bag onto the floor. It'll have to do until she can manage to get a real bed. Another dinner of vending-machine food soothes her growling stomach. She curls into the thin material, tries not to notice how hard the floor is underneath. Checks her phone. No messages, thank Yoba. For all she knows, her parents are still high. She nestles her head into the pillow and drifts off.

Jarring noises startle Sage into consciousness. It takes a moment to realize it's her phone ringing. The sound's foreign - she never had time for friends in Zuzu. No one had any need to call her. She slaps her hand along the floor and brings it to her face. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end is robust and cheerful, with a motherly softness. "Hello! Sage Sandoval, right? I'm Robin, Robin Sullivan. I'll be coming over in an hour to check the wiring and piping in your place. That work for you?"

"Oh! Uh, yeah, yeah. Thank you. I'll see you in an hour." Robin ends the call and Sage jolts up from her sleeping bag. Dashes to the bathroom mirror. Her hair's a fluffy mess - her bangs stick up and the rest poofs out at an odd angle. She grabs her brush from the suitcase and runs it under the tap, through her hair. A little work and it's back to the usual soft waves, ending just past her chin.

Riffling through the suitcase again, she pulls out an oversized sweater, a pair of shorts, and some ripped tights. Might as well unpack. Sage wrestles the dresser drawers open, cleans out the dust. It's large enough to store the clothing, bedding, and towels she brought.

She finds places for the odds and ends she packed and shoves the suitcase into the closet. After rinsing the dishes, she sets them on a towel atop the counter. Sage looks around, surveying the little room.

Sunlight pours in through the picture window, sending golden rays across the table and illuminating the wooden floor. The color is pretty, now that she can properly see it. She thinks this place could become a home.

Another bag of chips and another energy drink are all she has left for food. It'll have to do. Sage drums her fingers on the table as she gulps down the drink. It's fizzy and way too sweet. The chips are bland, barely seasoned. She checks the time. Robin will arrive soon.

Sage pulls on her boots and steps out to the porch. The air is full of birdsong and the scent of grass. There isn't a single cloud in the sky, just the mild sun and a slight breeze ruffling her hair. Sage jumps as her phone buzzes. She flips it open. It's a text message, from her father. Her stomach drops and her blood runs cold.

Dad: Where the fuck are you? Landlord's asking for rent.

Her hands shake as she snaps the phone shut. Not her problem anymore. She's hours away. They can't reach her here.

Dirt crunches under tires as a truck rolls up to the house. A man steps out of the passenger side. He's tall, lanky, with shaggy dark simply in a black hoodie and straight leg jeans, he folds his arms against his chest. Looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Their eyes meet, and like deer in headlights, they stare. The moment drags on, and Sage sees something familiar in his gaze. Something she knows all too well. Wonders if he sees it, too. She turns away, looks off to the side.

A woman with red hair hops from the truck. She's dressed in cheery yellow and brown, and waves as she spots Sage. "Welcome to the Valley! Pleased to meet you. I'm Robin, and this is my son, Sebastian." She gestures to the man, a broad grin plastered across her face.

Sebastian meets her eyes again and waves. "Hey, nice to meet you." Sage returns the wave, head tilted. He's undeniably handsome, just her type. Long and lithe, with a few piercings, and something she can't put her finger on. An odd intensity to his gaze. Snap out of it, she chides herself. Her first priority needs to be survival, not checking out a guy.

"Nice to meet you both. I appreciate your help a lot." Sage scuffs her boot into the porch, but Robin waves her off, insisting she's happy to help.

The front door creaks as the three enter the farmhouse. Robin heads to the breaker box in the back of the room, shines a flashlight at the switches.

Sage flinches as Sebastian appears beside her. He holds up his hands. "Sorry, sorry. Just saying hi. Of all places, why did you move way the hell out here, anyway?"

Sage looks away. "Decided I'd had enough of the city." Her voice is flat. There's no way she's about to tell this stranger about her home life, even if she does feel a weird pull toward him.

"That's funny. I've had enough of Pelican Town. I'm actually planning on moving to Zuzu sometime in the next year." He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking up at the ceiling. He's taller than her, has an angular jaw. Sage spots a tattoo poking out of his hoodie's collar.

Stamping down the disappointment that's flared in her belly, Sage turns away. "Right," she says. "Different strokes for different folks, I guess." Robin calls her over.

"The wiring here's functional, just a little old. If your power ever goes out, flip this switch." She colors it with a red marker. "Try not to run too many appliances at once and you'll be fine. I can always do upgrades in the future," she adds with a wink.

Robin moves through the house, checking the outlets. "You came from Zuzu, right? Sebby and I lived there when he was younger. We moved to the Valley a long time ago, though. Mind holding open this door for me?"

Sage grips the door, lets Robin work in silence. Wonders why they left Zuzu in the first place. She wants to ask, but doesn't want the same question asked of her.

"Did your grandfather not leave a bed behind?" Robin's scrutinizing the small room. "That won't do. Tell you what, I'll build you one, half-price. How's that sound?" She tilts her head at Sage.

Sage's eyes widen. She hates to admit it, but if she's going to try her hand at this farming thing, she'll need to get good sleep. And a thin sleeping bag on the hard floor isn't going to cut it for long.

But the savings she's managed to keep away from her parents are meager at best. She'll need to invest before the farm can make any money. Her brow furrows as she runs calculations in her head, counting on her fingers.

Robin watches her and narrows her eyes. "Tell you what, kiddo. It's on the house. Think of it as a welcome gift." She holds up a hand as Sage protests. "No, no, I've made my decision. Besides, I have a new design I've been dying to try out, anyway."

She laughs as Sage sputters, her eyes crinkled nearly shut. "You're not changing my mind, hon. I'll have it built for you within a week."

Before Sage can find something to say, a sound argument against this kindness, Robin and Sebastian are piling into the pickup truck. Robin waves, still chuckling. Sebastian's eyes don't leave Sage's until they pull out of sight. She stares long after they've gone, picking at her fingernails.

Her mind is too loud. Sage sinks to the porch, face buried in her hands. How is she going to repay Robin for this? Looking over the house was one thing, but an entire bed? Her skin crawls. Sage never had any choice but to be self-sufficient. The friendliness and help feels almost suffocating, too much to bear.

But the Valley's not done with her yet. Her phone's buzzing again, another unknown number. Sage's voice trembles as she answers. "Hello?"

There's a woman on the other line, gentle and soothing. "Hello, is this Sage? I'm Marnie. I live just below your farm, past the forest. Lew- er, Mayor Lewis told me you moved here. I've got some things for you and I'll be at your house in about five minutes, okay?" In the background, Sage hears the rumble of a truck. And...chickens squawking? This day is really weird.

"Um, okay. Thank you, Marnie. I'll see you soon, then." She hangs up and returns her head to her hands. The crawling sensation on her skin intensifies. Another thing to repay someone she doesn't even know. Granted, she already planned on getting some livestock. But still, the rapid-fire generosity makes her squirm.

She inhales deep, holds the air in her lungs. Exhales after a few seconds. Her body settles and her breathing steadies. She'll figure things out. She always has, always will. Sage raises her head and stands as another truck trundles toward the house, kicking up clouds of dirt.

A plump woman with a cherubic face leaps from the vehicle. "Well hello, new neighbor! I'm Marnie, but you know that already!" She crosses the distance between them and pulls Sage into a warm, soft hug.

A thought pops into her head. She can't remember the last time someone hugged her. Only for a tiny, tiny moment, Sage allows herself to relax into her embrace. She smells like hay, dust, and cattle. Marnie pulls back and grasps Sage's shoulders. "You're a slight little thing! But I can see your grandfather in your face. We all mourned his passing."

Sage stiffens in her arms. Marnie must notice, because she releases her and turns to the truck's bed. "Have some chickens for you! Four hens and a rooster to get you started." Sage is already trying to protest, but the older woman won't have it. "I'm only returning what's yours. They belonged to your grandfather and were left in my care when he passed. Now, show me that coop of yours."

Numb, bewildered, Sage leads Marnie to the coop, her head buzzing. The door creaks on rusted hinges like the farmhouse. Inside, dust floats through the air. It smells of hay and wood. Sunlight shines through a window, illuminating the particles. It lends an almost shimmering quality to the air.

Marnie places her hands on her hips. "He left it surprisingly clean. Just some dust, nothing the hens can't handle. And you've got a nice fence already built for them outside."

They return to her truck and retrieve the chickens. Marnie pulls out a bag stuffed with hay. "This'll cover you for three or four weeks, but when you run out, you'll either need to scythe your own hay or buy it from me." She hands the sack to Sage and sets the cage in the coop. "I've got to be going, but I'm just past Cindersap Forest if you need anything. Go toward the trees south of your farm and you can't miss it. Good luck, Sage, and welcome to the Valley!"

Marnie leaves Sage in the coop. In the distance, the truck's engine sputters to a start and fades into the distance.

Sage looks at the chickens. They look at her. She almost laughs. A random woman's given her lives to look after. And then she jolts as she realizes she knows nothing about how to care for them. Not a single thing. Sage's head is on a swivel, looking around the coop. Nothing seems too dangerous.

She undoes the latch on the cage, and the birds scatter, clucking. They're already poking at the hay bag. Sage actually smiles at this. There's something endearing about their enthusiasm. She puts some hay in the trough. Pecking with gusto, they seem happy enough.

Still. Failure isn't an option. If Sage is going to care for animals, she's going to do it right. She latches the fence behind her, double checking to make sure it's secure. Grabbing her backpack, she heads down the long path toward town, kicking up dirt beneath her boots. The website mentioned Pelican Town having a library somewhere.

The sun hangs overhead, arcing away from the mountains in the east. The late February chill seeps through Sage's sweater and she hugs herself, shivering. Despite the temperature, signs of new growth, little bits of green, are visible everywhere. Flowers poke through the ground, flashes of yellow, purple, and red against brown.

The breeze brings the scent of the earth returning to itself, unthawing from the cold grip of winter. Birds sing in the trees above. New beginnings, she thinks. Both for her and the earth. A smile tugs at her lips. She never got to see nature like this in Zuzu.

Twenty minutes or so of walking later, the dirt path changes to cobblestone. Sage finds the outskirts of Pelican Town. She sees what must be a clinic, with a red cross hanging above the door. Next to it is a building with a sign that says "Pierre's". It's large, with a second floor and a quaint balcony.

As she moves closer, she realizes this isn't the outskirts at all, but the town itself. To her right, there's a bar. Sage peers closer. The building is large and homey, with a handmade sign. "The Stardrop Saloon". Faint music comes from within.

Glancing around, she sees a trailer, and a few houses. They're large, and nice. Solid foundations, paint that isn't chipped and peeling. The kind of houses you'd see in a TV show about a happy family.

In front of her, a river trickles and winds through the little town. A bridge crosses it, leading to what looks like a beach. Sage's heart leaps - she didn't know she'd be so close to the coast. She makes a note to visit after her errand.

The library's a green building with a purple roof. An odd color choice, she thinks, but it's charming. A bell tinkles above her as she pushes the door open. Inside, there's a front counter staffed by a man with a blue hat pulled low over his face. To the right, the floor's filled with bookshelves and tables. At the back, she spots a station with four desktop computers and a couple printers.

Sage approaches the man with the blue hat. "Hello?" He glances up at her, keeping a finger on the book he's reading. "Hi, I'm new to Pelican Town. Do I need a library card for the computers and printers, or...?"

The man laughs. "No need for any of that fancy stuff here. Go ahead and use what you need. Name's Gunther, by the way." Sage nods, returns his offered handshake.

"Thank you, I'm Sage. I'll, uh, I'll go use the computers." She weaves between the mismatched tables. The library smells like old paper and coffee. Books of every kind and color crowd the shelves. There doesn't seem to be any discernible organization.

The computers look modern enough. She boots one up and finds several articles about chicken care on Google. When she's satisfied she has enough information, she prints them and stuffs them into her bag. "Thanks again, Gunther." She raises a hand in farewell. Gunther does the same, wishes her a good day.

Outside, the sun's edging toward the beach. Sage can hear crashing waves in the distance. She quickens her pace, jogging across the bridge. Cobblestone turns to sand shifting beneath her feet, and the water comes into sight. Sage breathes in deep, savoring the ocean air. She already knows this is going to be her happy place.

A dock stretches out in the distance. She picks her way toward it. Her footsteps echo on the wood as she reaches the end and sits. The view is brilliant. The sun's illuminating the clouds on the horizon, creating streaks of fire that blend with the water.

Sage pulls out her mp3 player and puts in her earbuds. The dock is hard underneath as she sits, and the choppy water sends a fine mist above, little kisses on her face. She sighs, relaxes into a cross legged stance. Her favorite album is playing, and she smiles as the waves dance below her.

She's so immersed in her private calm she doesn't notice the vibrations of footsteps behind her. Sage nearly falls when someone taps her shoulder. She rips her earbuds out, whirling around, and claps a hand over her heart when she recognizes him. Sebastian. Robin's son.

"Shit, I'm sorry." He backs up a few paces. "Didn't mean to make you almost fall in. I came out here to do some thinking."

Sage slumps, her heartbeat slowing. "Yeah, me too. Don't worry about it. I didn't even know Pelican Town had a beach. In Zuzu you can't even access the coast. The rich fucks bought all the land and built high rises on it." She glances out to the sunset. Sebastian sits beside her, a couple feet away. "Thanks, by the way. For earlier."

He turns his head toward her, one eyebrow raised. "I didn't really do anything, but you're welcome, I guess." They sit in silence, watching as the sun touches the horizon. "What are you listening to?"

Sage shows him her mp3 player. "Death Cab for Cutie. You know them?"

He nods. "I do, actually. Saw them play live in Zuzu last year."

"Wait, you did? In June? I was there! It was an amazing show." Sage leans forward, her gaze trained on his.

He nods and looks toward the water. "It was. Small world, huh?" A pause stretches between them. "I kind of uh, wanted to have some time to think alone, though."

Ouch. Sage's face falls. She flinches, leans away. "Oh. Right, sorry. Guess I'll take my leave, then. See ya." She turns and flees down the dock, across the sand. How embarrassing. She thought she was making a connection, but she was just annoying him. Sage grimaces and heads for the saloon. She's survived off of chips and energy drinks since she got here. Maybe a proper meal will cheer her up, un-bruise her ego. She sighs and steps into the building.