Saskia cracked the door to her roommate’s bedroom. “Kareena, you doing okay?”
“No,” she heard from under a pile of blankets.
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Tell me I made a killing at the market,” they croaked out.
“You did! I sold almost everything. All but the smallest rings and that one necklace that’s way too expensive.”
Kareena poked their head out. “It draws people to the booth.”
“Mission accomplished then,” Saskia replied.
“I can’t thank you enough. And I can’t believe I cut your hookup short.”
Saskia smiled thinking of what she and Milo managed to accomplish in the time they had. For a buttoned-up accountant, he had some moves. Then her phone buzzed with a text. It was from Milo.
Saskia’s goofy smile gave her away. “Go talk to your lover boy. Leave me to die,” Kareena said.
“Okay,” Saskia said absentmindedly as she shut their door.
Milo: hey, it’s Milo.
As if she didn’t have his name saved in her phone with some apple and sparkle emojis.
Saskia: what’s up?
Milo: I tried to surprise you at the orchard today but I missed you.
Saskia’s fizzy feeling went totally flat. She knew she wasn’t an easy person to surprise, because it wasn’t uncommon for her plans to change at the last minute. And she liked it that way, making sure she was spending her days optimally. It was better to sell Kareena’s jewelry on their behalf while they were sick than to take a shift at the orchard. Raven would complain, but he was saving for a car and could use the money.
Saskia: I’m sorry I missed you. Normally, I am at the orchard but something else came up.
Milo: No, I should have checked with you before showing up.
At least he learned fast. Still, she felt uneasy, worried this minor mishap might portend bigger ones. But he was sweet, and good with his mouth, damn it, and she wanted to know what other tricks he had up his sleeve.
Saskia: Do you want to get a drink or something on Sunday night? I’m free then.
Milo: Sorry, I can’t. I have to catch up on ecobricking.
Saskia: ecobricking?
Milo: It’s a practice of compressing all one’s plastic garbage into plastic containers to sequester that waste and make a useful building unit. Everyone in my family does it and we’re using them to build raised garden beds in my dads’ backyard.
He sent Saskia a link to a short video explaining further. Indeed, there were people shoving every food wrapper and bit of packaging into juice bottles and cold brew containers. How Milo, living on an island where garbage overflowed onto the streets several times weekly, thought this was a good use of his time was beyond Saskia. But everyone had their weird little hobbies, and less garbage was obviously better than more.
Was this weird little hobby better than going out with Saskia? And possibly getting laid? Or was this his roundabout way of extinguishing whatever might have been sparking between them? She needed to know more.
Saskia: hey, can I call you?
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