Page 33 of Fibre and Ink

Dillon: I would also like a poster

Aster: working on it. I’ll send something to be printed tomorrow and bring it around, but we have to move fast on this because I think they’re trying to sneak it through under the radar, like before people notice

Tane: so dodgy!

My phone buzzed with a separate private thread from Harlow. I tapped on it.

Harlow: so, how’s things out at the farm? I’m sorry I haven’t been back to visit I’ve been so busy

How were things? Well, ‘Low, I’ve been sleeping in your brother’s bed and last night we got tipsy and made out and then made each other come, like, how do you think?

My cheeks flamed, I couldn’t say anything about that to her. She’d lose her shit. Rightfully so.

Aster: all good, glad to have this project to work on

Harlow: Mickey treating you okay? I’m so glad you’re there, he gets really lonely, even if he never actually says that.

I thought of Mickey, how happy he was to cook for me, how quick to suggest games and movies... My chest ached. I didn’t want him to be lonely. I wanted to stay forever and be his husband.

I shook my head.

Stop it, Aster. You’re getting so ahead of yourself nothing even makes sense. Focus on the task at hand.

Aster: yeah, we’re having fun

The other chat had moved along with the suggestions of different people from around town we could recruit for the protest, and ideas for a good time and place.

Dillon: it’ll have to be at the next council meeting, which according to the schedule online is the day after tomorrow. That soon enough, bro?

Aster: yes, perfect. What time? I’ll get the poster together now

Mickey: I’ll help!

Aster: awesome, thanks team!

I nodded, feeling amped, and opened my laptop to get started on a poster design. I came up with something super simple that would print cheaply since I wasn’t exactly rolling in dough, and sent it to a print shop in Hartsville, to collect in the morning.

That night Mickey made a nice dinner of beef casserole. I mentioned to him Joel’s idea of an X-Files act and how I’d never seen an episode. Mickey insisted I be educated properly and dug out the DVD boxed set of season one.

After a few hours of episodes and me getting thoroughly hooked on Agent Mulder’s body language, we went to bed separately.

I wasn’t so worried about people sneaking around outside, now that I knew what they’d been doing — scouting for a dodgy new development — and I wanted to give Mickey his space, not pressure him into anything he didn’t want.

Of course, I could barely sleep.

I took a melatonin tablet, but my mind kept reminding me of how nice and warm and safe I’d feel if I was in bed with Mickey, being spooned.

But I couldn’t have that, not unless he explicitly invited me in.

When I eventually slept, I dreamed about alpacas leaping through the lake, trying to escape a horde of corporate zombies, all dressed in suits and dark glasses.

Friday, August 7th

Mickey

Someone knocked on the front door as Aster and I were eating a weirdly quiet, awkward breakfast.

I opened the door to a man in an ill-fitting blue suit who looked as cranky to be there as I felt having to meet him.