The market was simultaneously the same and different than others Themis had been in. The wide space was crowded with isles filled with products, organised neatly by kind and by brand. One one side there were fridges and freezers, with drinks, dairy, frozen vegetables and ice cream, among others. What made it different, though, was the fact that Themis did not recognize a single brand. Everything everywhere was written in Korean, though they might as well have been Greek. Themis felt like she had stepped foot in a dream, a familiar environment warped by her subconscious and half forgotten after waking up.

  Behind the counter stood a tall girl with short bck hair and an impressive rack.

  “Welcome,” she said as soon as Themis set foot in the store. “You must be Themis.”

  Themis was caught off guard to hear her name from a stranger’s mouth. She tried to hide it, cracking a cocky half grin instead. “Depends on who’s asking.”

  “I tried to take your apartment,” the girl chuckled. “But the super wouldn’t budge. He spoke so much about you, he adores you.”

  “And how do you know it’s me?”

  “You fit the description. Tall, kind, handsome.”

  Themis approached her, leaning against the counter. “How would you know if I’m kind?”

  “I guess I can’t,” the girl shrugged. “The other two check out, though.”

  “Well, alright then,” Themis shrugged.

  “I’m Eunice, by the way,” the girl said. “Eunice Song.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Themis said as the women shook hands.

  “So, what brings you here?”

  Her answer was answered abruptly as a growl escaped Themis’ stomach. Eunice ughed.

  “Grab whatever you want. On the house,” she said.

  Themis picked up a pack of instant stir fried ramen, wincing at the price tag. Six fucking dolrs. Jesus, what the fuck happened to the country while she was away? She brought it to the counter, and tried to take her wallet out to pay but Eunice stopped her, insisting that it was on the house. Which turned out to be a good thing, considering Themis realised she did not have a wallet. Or money. She watched Eunice scan it and bag it.

  “You want a receipt?” she asked.

  “Nah, no need,” Themis said back. It would end up crumbled under a couch or the fridge anyway.

  “You sure?” Eunice insisted. “My number’s written on it, you know.”

  Themis paused, grabbing the receipt and giving it a quick look over. Indeed, at the top was a phone number printed alongside the rest of the mumbo jumbo receipts said for no one to read.

  Themis let out a silent chuckle. “Yeah, okay,” she said, pocketing the receipt.

  “You know where to find me,” Eunice waved her off.

  Another issue for another time. She practically ran back up the stairs, counting the seconds before the noodles were out of their packaging and into her stomach. Time seemed to fold and stretch, minutes turning into lifetimes, as she waited for water to boil and for the noodles to get cooked. Then the lifetimes turned to seconds as she devoured the meal. The fvours were foreign though not unpleasant. Themis had no idea what they were, both the package and the ingredients were in Korean with only a sticker in English text attached with the directions to prepare it. She’d have to ask Eunice about it some time.

  She was still hungry after the noodles, so she cracked open a yoghurt from the fridge and poured Cocoa Puffs over it. Alone, in her own kitchen, with the greatest desert this side of the Pecos and with a hot girl’s number in her pocket. Opulence beyond fifteen-year-old Themis’ wildest fantasies. Back then getting to second base under the bleachers with a cheerleader was the highest peak one could achieve. The long days trapped inside a stuffy cssroom, fighting the urge to drift off at any given second, seemed like hell, and her whole world used to revolve around school. It was funny how fast things changed, and how much in a rush she was to grow up back then. Now she was old, and she had gone way beyond second base with more than one cheerleader. Would her past self still rush to grow up if she knew what she was in for, Themis wondered.

  At the second spoonful she realised what time it was. And that she was running te. She jumped from the table, yoghurt still in hand, and rushed outside, not even locking the door behind her. She tried to think as her feet rolled down the stairs, barely not losing her steps and killing herself. She didn’t have a ticket for the bus, nor money to pay for a cab. Or even a phone to call one. Lobo should be at home, but knocking at his door after disappearing for a whole year and asking him for a ride was too much of a dick move for her to stomach. Eunice was working, and Artie explicitly had told her that she wouldn’t drive her, probably on Odin's orders. The closest person she trusted enough to ask for a ride was Patrice’s bar, but that was a whole mile away, almost as far as the clubhouse.

  She ran outside, ready to charge headfirst into what she hoped was an empty street. The Hummer was back, Tracey leaned against it lighting a smoke as Themis practically flew out of the apartment building, barely having enough time to break before her body crashed against the car. At that speed, she didn’t even want to think about the damage it would have done to her, or the damage she would have done to it.

  “Themis Adamou,” Tracey smiled, blowing out smoke. “Are your pants on fire or are you just happy to see me?”

  “Sorry, can’t talk, need to-” Themis started, before Tracey cut her off.

  “I can give you a ride,” she said. “I was on my way out of here anyway, I only came back to grab some cigarettes from the store.”

  just_darkjazz