An Arrangement was Made

Chapter 26: What am I forgetting?

(Violence warning in this chapter)

Adam found the hardware aisle. He had an idea. The basket wasn't nearly big enough for everything he wanted to fit, but he could fix that. Charlie had said that if it could fit in the box, he could have it. And he had an idea to make his shit fit.

-

Angel was in the pasta isle comparing prices on cans of tomato sauce. The prices had gone up again. It was to the point where the pre-made marinara was cheaper than even the crummiest plain tomato sauce. Angel sighed. Pre-made marinara was fine, but he always preferred his mother's recipe. Still. 5 dollars for 8 ounces of tomato sauce was ridiculous.

"Holy fuck, these prices are ridiculous."

Angel jumped when he heard Adam's voice. He didn't realize that he could move so quietly. It freaked him out.

"Yeah." He responded. "Ya know there's only one company in charge of food production down here?"

"No kidding."

"Yeah. One dude. I don' have many strong opinions 'bout anythin', but I feel like monopolies are a bad thing."

"Understatement of the fucking year. No wonder everyone down here's so fucking skinny." He picked up one of the cans and examined it.

"Is this shit any good?" He asked Angel.

"No. Check the ingredients on the back." Adam turned it around to the ingredients list. Water. Tomatoes. Salt. Unpronounceable food additives that were almost certainly addictive. "Tomatoes used ta be at the top of da list. They literally watered it down."

"Oh. Lame." Adam puts the can back. "Why would they do that? My wife only did that when I was too injured or sick to hunt."

"Ta make it cheaper to produce so they make more profit."

"But why? They already have more money than they could ever spend. What's the point?"

"You're not very bright are you?"

"Shut up! I am too! Just look at this thing I made." Angel actually looked at him now to see what he was holding. Adam had sawed the basket into four pieces, which he then attached to ends of a regular sized shopping cart using a combination of duct tape and zip ties.

"Okay that's pretty cool." Angel admitted.

"If I get your groceries for you, will you make me dinner?"

"You want me to make you dinner?"

"Yeah, I can't cook for shit."

Angel shrugged.

"Sure. Why not?"

-

Lute was getting progressively more and more confused. It started when she cleaned out her desk and found a father's day card. The very existence of a father's day card in her home was weird enough. Lute had no father. Things only got weirder when she opened it up and read it. There was a poorly written poem addressed to a man named Adam. The card had never been sent, and Lute could understand why. There was a coffee stain on it that looked as if it had happened after the card had been written. The ink of the last few words was smudged, almost beyond legibility.

She was perplexed. It was in her handwriting so she had to be the one to write it, but she knew no one named Adam. Lute pretended as if she'd never seen the thing. She had thrown it into the garbage and went back to cleaning.

But as time went on, she found more little hints towards the existence of a male friend she must have known. A frying pan she hadn't bought, CDs she didn't listen to, junk food she didn't like. As much as she wanted to dismiss these things and keep living her life, but they just kept piling up. No longer able to ignore it, she started making a list of everything she had found that she didn't remember owning. It wasn't exactly an extensive list, but it was longer than it ought to have been. She pinned it up on the corkboard in her room.