Mitch & Bethany

Rounding the corner of Cedar and Elm, a young man walks near the middle of the day. The houses pile up behind him as he passes by and each one is occupied in a random degree; whole lives play out their existence around him, but he doesn't fully appreciate this. And right now he doesn't think about it all.

"Dude, what's going on!?" A girl marches out of a storefront with oversized books showing through the window. On a plank affixed above the single doorway, 'The Scribe' is carved and painted in black shadow.

"Hiya Miss Bethany. How goes it?" says the man trekking toward the itty-bitty woman. (Indie is exactly his height, in fact...not this blessed waif-girl.) On his lips tease a flickering spark of smile as though he anticipated the punchline to a joke he'd heard before that promised satisfaction.

"It's going good, Mitch. I've just had an epiphany as a matter of fact, waiting around all day for you--as usual."

"Oh yeah? How so?" the man responds. He wondered if she had any idea that she was grinning? Squinting her eyes as if considering whether or not he was worthy of this new discovery of hers--did she know that she undermined her coarse scrutiny every time, grinning this way?/like this/that?

The woman with the open smile shifts her weight from one foot to the next, back and forth while she studies the man before her. She has brown-bobbed hair and large/ish dark teal eyes. She'll chew on the right side of her lip until it's fully digested before hurrying along her careful regard of him. And hypocritically so/at that. "I think you should invest in 'The Scribe'," she tells him at last.

"I am invested in 'The Scribe'," he laughed at the serious expression accompanying her bizarre proposal. "I spend all of my free afternoons here, remember?"

"Exactly--so why not buy me out of a portion and pay yourself back a bit?" the woman finishes rushing then stands with every appearance of self-satisfaction.

The youngish man scoffs and takes his own turn squinting his light blue eyes in exaggerated distrust. He couldn't imagine what she was talking about--he had thought that she wouldn't have parted with that place of hers even if she had to start paying to keep the damn thing open!

"What's this madness you're playing at Beth? Since when are you willing to give away any real share of 'The Scribe'?"

The woman shifts her weight again. "Go and tell your lady-friend 'hello'. She won't want to leave today, so come out to lunch with me and chat a bit, yeah?"