A STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION

8

We've been sat in the back room for a while now, talking about whatever. As time has gone on, and seemingly as Daryll's high has worn off, we've been having a long flowing conversation.

It's been fantastic, finally someone to talk to other than my glass-half-empty father and my - kind hearted - nonsensical mother.
I suppose Roof is fun, when he's awake, and not moping about the place.

I wonder how he's doing.

"So you came all the way here from...where, again?" Daryll reiterates, finding my story as to how I got here ridiculous.

"Really North, not far from the Blackwaters. A little town called Baywater. " I retell my tale, as Daryll nods, possibly remembering the Blackwaters by name.

He answers my query, "you came from there? That's not a small distance."

"Yeah, car ride was brutal."

"I bet."

Through the windows from the dining area, which we can see from a little window from here, begin to glow as the sun's rays connect perfectly with them.
It creates a warm glow in the otherwise cold looking building, all dark and creepy without any lights as the sun sets.

It's very calming, and it catches our attention, a little contrast to everything in this fucking town I suppose.

Anderson's is located on the outskirts of a block, with a main road passing parallel to it until an intersection at the middle, leading away from the face of the building.

The sun sits perfectly on that adjacent road, coating it and the restaurant in a warm glow as it slowly begins to descend beyond the street, taking it's warmth with it, inch by inch.

With both eyes on the view, I double around my trousers in hunt for my phone. It's wedged between my arse and the seat, so I pull it out with a bit of force and turn it on.

5:03

I take note of the time, still surprised it's still light out at this time. I hear winter takes a toll in this area, the geography of Durnington and the neighbouring cities and towns designed perfectly to accommodate the winter-lovers, me included.

I hear some rustling behind me, the sound of a small plastic bag being fumbled with, and I crane my neck to make the attempt to look behind me at Daryll and infront at the sun at the same time, which doesn't go well despite my best efforts.

So my attention returns to Daryll, who's now brandishing a small little baggie, with something inside of it that I can't quite see.

The baggie disappears as soon as Daryll spots me, forced into his jacket pocket no doubt just as quickly as it came out.

He looks a little panicked, as if he's a child I just caught doing something he shouldn't, like hiding sweets or staying up late.

"What was that?" I pry, my pursuit of answers for questions that don't need answering raging on.

A sniff, and some shuffling as he adverts his face from me, the dark corners of the room shadowing his features, causing him to appear ghoulish.

Through this light, I noticed just how hollow his face is.

Prominent cheek bones adorn his face, and he looks a lot older and more feeble than he did under the sun.

Although I doubt it is just the lighting affecting his face

"Weed. Just weed." He eventually answers, shifting subtlety in his chair, my prying disturbing him, disturbing his peace.

"Ok." It take it at that, fighting every urge to dig deeper, pry more.