just a taste...

exerpt from chapter

“Isn't this place amazing?” asked Freya to break the ice.  It was styled with the sheik flare of found objects and re-purposed garbage, everything painted with white wash and treated to look faded or scuffed, and corroding.  Each table had a large glass vase, a patch on its surface painted black like a chalkboard, and labeled, 'H2O'.  Clear light bulbs were mounted from the bare warehouse style, above hung plants that grew from pots or frames in the wall. “Yeah.” said Becca, “So much better than The Happy Radish.” The two looked out through the windows, at the fast food joint across the way.  “Something against corporate greed and blatant political hypocrisy?”   Freya joked, holding the camera to her eye and framing a shot through the window at the restaurant Becca so hated, Becca's image reflected in the glass like a double exposure.     “Something like that... Let's not talk about that though” she said. Freya took the shot and lowered the camera to her bosom.    “Let's uh.” stuttered Becca  “How about you? We should talk about you.” “Well, Y'know.  I dunno.” She feigned bashfulness, eyes flitting and fluttering before they made contact again.   “I'm just a regular Amiran girl with a pension for trouble and a passion for photography.  For money, I did some cafe and grocery gigs for a while, trying to figure out the whole nine to five thing, but then I decided I'd give up on all of that normal stuff.” She held her hands up in moving quotation marks, “Now I do like, odd jobs.  This and that from the internet, y'know, trying to fit my photos in the professional frame.”   She paused, seeming to count the seconds with slight nods, before she snapped a shot of some glimmering wonder that Becca did not understand.  She smiled at Becca, her gaze open as fox fields again.     The two sat, eyes locked curiously.       “So uh...You could at least tell me what it is you do for work?” suggested Freya, breaking the silence.    “Well...” Becca stuttered, trying to formulate a quick lie. “Y'know, I uhhh, I work at an ice creamery.” she faltered, “Slash, puppy daycare.” Becca scalded herself, blushing, still her date seemed pleased.     “Oh wow!” Freya celebrated, grabbing her drink and twisting it with a scritch on the polyurethane table.  “That sounds amazing!” Becca looked at Freya there, smiling so openly.  Her brown eyes and sun red hair, the nervous way the muscles of her jaw wriggled so that she could tell her tongue was pressing against her teeth, silently reciting the words she would not speak, her own secrets swishing around in there.  Becca wanted to tell her the truth but knew the truth to be dangerous, didn't want their relationship to be founded on lies, though she knew there would have to be a great deal of withholding and omission.  Thankfully their burritos arrived just then. “This. Is. Ultimate.”  said Freya, taking an ambitious bite. “Fuuuck.” groaned Becca, beaming, “Like, I don't have a religion or anything, but If I were to worship anything, it would be this very burrito.” Freya snickered.     “I'm torn between the urge to preserve the burrito and the urge to consume it.” she held it up to her mouth, as if it were some primal necessity.  “I can't resist it!” she said as she took a bite, eyes smiling on Freya's.     “We could form our own burrito cult.” Becca, chewing, nodded. “We wouldn't like, poison the food to be reborn or anything, like, weirdo status.  But I have a feeling we might get some followers.” Becca swallowed.  “It's something everyone can agree on don't you think?  Like, it could unite all people's or some shit.” she took another bite.     “Yeah!” agreed Freya, “World peace may finally be ours.”