“Go ahead. Take it for a spin.” In the darkness, Marsha hadn’t seen her sitting at the table — apparently reading — while she checked out this likewise yellow bug of a neighbor, a buggy if you want to get technical. She was mulling over specifics about its traction, how deep of a sand drift could you drive it through, and so on. And now the owner’s right over there. If she’s not too pissed about Marsha being on private property, maybe she could get some answers to these.
“I’m so sorry for being here, um, miss. It’s just that…”
“Yes yes, I know. You have a yellow bug too. Couldn’t resist the temptation. I’ve been eyeing your own parked over there for days. Well, for nights. That’s the only time I show up. Awfully busy above during the sunshine hours you know.” She points up, indicating Reality reality as opposed to Our Second Lyfe reality. Marsha figured she had a job that kept her going.
“Who are you?” Marsha ventured. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Not at all. But I’m just an ordinary, average gal. Mrs. Ordinary, if you will. You call me that: Mrs. Ordinary. Ah heck,” she waved off the suggestion. “Call me my actual name. Beth. Beth Page. No (she changed her mind again). Beth Compt… no, Comfort. Like the mound just above me. Rocky Comfort. I’ve seen you up there as well, surveying the land. Figured out we all came in a group, huh. 15 years old the lot of us. Not Beth (she changed once more): Bethany. But keep the Comfort.”
But later Marsha learned her real name was Ginger Blue, which called into question her very existence.
(to be continued)
Sunklands 