.

in.

      “You from out of town?” Dwayne asked, eyes on the road.

      “Seattle.”

      “What brings you here?”

      “Taking care of business,” Aiden said, looking out the window.

      Dwayne didn’t prod, just drove.

      They pulled up behind the Civic. Aiden unlocked the hatch, grabbed the jack and proceeded to raise the car high enough to remove the lug nuts. Dwayne had the tire down and ready to go just after the flat tire was off.

      “What’d you hit?” he asked as he placed the new tire on the rim and tightened the lugs.

      “Broken bottle,” Aiden said. “Wouldn’t kill people to pick up their crap.”

      “Wouldn’t kill you to watch the road,” the mechanic replied. “We don’t have the luxury of street sweepers here.”

      Aiden had had just about enough criticism for one day. It was as if he had “ignorant outsider” stamped across his forehead. He hadn’t the energy to continue the banter.

      The tire was switched within minutes. Dwayne threw the flat in the truck and hopped in the driver seat.

      “Watch the roads on your way home,” he said. “You know where to come if you run into any problems. Tires have lifetime guarantee.”

      “Thanks,” Aiden said insincerely. He put the spare in the back, started the engine and headed back to the store to pick up his groceries.

      The cashier had his bag out on the counter, as if she was anticipating the time of his return to the second.

      “Bon appetit,” she said, holding the bag out to him.

      Aiden pictured himself on Disneyland’s “It’s A Small Small World” ride, with the islanders’ faces plastered on the demon-possessed dolls.

      “Good timing,” he said. Couldn’t think of anything wittier to say. Didn’t care to. She had pointed him to the resources he needed, so he at least owed her some gratitude.

      “Thanks,” he said as he walked out the double doors.

      4. A GRACEFUL INTERUPTION

      Aiden fired up the gas stove as soon as he got back to cabin. Sliced the sirloin into strips, diced the vegetables and threw them into a skillet simmering with butter. The ingredients hit with a sizzle, and when the meat was seared on the outside, he poured in a generous amount of the merlot, heating it on medium for about 15 minutes until it was a dense reduction.

      Normally he would spend more time intentionally mixing up the way he cooked this dish, but being as hungry as he was, he stuck to the tried-and-true recipe he made once a week.

      He opened up a few cabinet doors looking for plates and found a stack of aluminum dishes. Very fitting for log cabins; not suitable for Aiden’s hipster taste. But he could care less at this point.

      Aiden tried to occupy his thoughts with something productive as he ate, such as an itinerary for the next few days. But with each bite, he found himself feeling increasingly discontent, and the cabin grew smaller and smaller. Whispers of inadequacy kept creeping out of his subconscious.

      “What am I doing here?” he thought.

      He needed to get out.

      He looked at his watch. 5:15. Still enough daylight for some escapism.

      Aiden grabbed his brown hoodie, started up the car and drove south. He remembered Dad telling him that the further south, the more serene the imagery.

      Not that he really cared about serenity right now. He just needed some air.

      Although he hated the stereotype, Aiden did have a mental “nothing box” which let him drown out all his thoughts and focus on a sole action. In this case, that action was driving.

      He continued along the main roads, using the sun as his compass. About 20 minutes later, the main county road came to a dead end. He spotted a small dirt road behind him through his side mirror. Feeling frustrated but not enough to be defeated, Aiden backed up, turned down the dirt road and pressed on.

      The road was quite scenic and surrounded with dense trees. He drove up a small but steady incline, which then crested the top of the slope and came to an opening.

      “Wow,” he said out loud.

      The southern-most tip of the island stretched out over steep cliffs with rich green grass growing along the field in front of the cliff. To Aiden, it felt much more like Ireland than the Pacific Northwest.

      He stopped his car in a small turn-off lot. Thought twice, then locked his door anyway.

      Aiden walked toward the cliff. A wide landscape of grass preceded a steep drop down to the ocean. The waves were crashing up against the rocky cliffs, and the sun was beginning to set off in the distance. Arbutis leaves were scattered along the edge, crunching with each step he took.

      He sat down on the rocky edge, closed his eyes and soaked it in. Suddenly, his worries and anxieties felt a little more distant.

      He heard a different set of footsteps crunching in the background. He turned around and saw a woman approaching.

      The grocery store cashier.

      “Could this island be any smaller?” he grumbled to himself.

      She was wearing baggy jeans, moccasins and a faded orange cardigan.

      Mismatched.

      Then again, this was Cielo.

      Aiden was too far out in the open to sneak away unseen. He gave her a small nod of acknowledgement, hoping that she’d sense that he was occupied.

      She didn’t pick up on that. If she did, she clearly didn’t care.

      “First day here and you’ve already discovered a local secret,” she said.

      Locals seemed to know how to declare one’s newness to the island with subtle yet blatant accusations of intrusion and ignorance. Aiden didn’t know whether to smile at the notion or give her the finger.

      “Sorry for tainting it with my presence,” he responded. Even with his back to her, Aiden could tell she was looking at him with that soft gaze she held earlier at the store.

      “Well that’s the beauty of a rocky shoreline like Sunset Strip. The waves give it a proper cleanse every day from anything too foreign.”

      While it was an insult, Aiden picked up on the humor behind it. She may be overly vocal, but he couldn’t deny that she had a decent sense of dry wit.

      “You come here often?” he asked, still facing the setting sun.

      “Try to; it’s sort of a daily ritual of mine. Cashiers see a lot of people each day – even in a place as small as Cielo. Solitude does wonders for the soul, especially when the socializing wears one thin.”

      “I can understand that,” Aiden said, his voice offering a slight jab at their interaction earlier.

      “Sorry if I was a bit harsh today at the store,” she said. “Cielo’s known to be a friendly place; hope I didn’t ruin that expectation for you.”

      “Well, you know what they say: every rose has its thorn,” he said, followed by a subtle exhale through his nose. Sarcasm is great compensation for lacking confidence.

      “Well played, sir,” she said.

      Aiden was still sitting facing the shore and she was still standing off to his right. It was time to surrender to courtesy.

      “Aiden,” he said, turning toward her and extending his hand. “Aiden Lawrence.”

      She met his gaze and slowly reached for his hand.

      “Pleased to meet you,