I awoke to find myself in a foul mood. My face and my chest hurt. I'd made it to 160, as promised to Jayne last night, but it was at the expense of my health. Perhaps it was the whiskey I'd so haphazardly imbibed, or the disgusting late night snack I'd made of some rancid protein. Or ...perhaps Serenity had just absorbed the sour feelings of the crew, following Inara's announcement.
I didn't know and I didn't rightly care. My head was pounding and I felt the need to step outside and put my feet in the dirt. I tied my hair back and dressed silently, keeping the lights dimmed in my quarters. Some mornings, the world just seems sharper and harder than other mornings. My bunk, for instance. Brutal. Punishing. The stairs down to the kitchen. I passed by and saw the pilot and the children sitting at the table. I lifted my hand as a hello, but no one saw it. Just as well, as I don't think I could handle the sound of any of their voices.
I needed air. I left the ship and found myself smack dab in the middle ...of a raucous cacophony. I slouched a bit and shielded my eyes. Hardly the breath of fresh air and stillness that I was craving.
Dust clogged the air, drifting over from the dirty street and coating the sides of Serenity. I stood in her shade for a bit, plotting my course. Patting her hull, I was moved by whimsy and tried to listen to her -- like River seems to be able to do. I was rewarded with a hulking, profound silence. I grumbled and wiped my hands on my hankerchief. What was I thinking? Is that what I'm doing now? Crediting mysticism? Listening to objects?
I sighed heavily and made my way towards the free trade market across the street. I might as well stock up on some supplies. I had a chunk of change that I'd rather not leave unattended on the ship. I might as well turn it into sweet apples, rice cakes and chocolate shavings for Kaylee. Perhaps some pemmican and some tins of preachers. Peaches, I mean. Tins of peaches. I shook my head for a moment and rubbed at the space between my eyes. Perhaps I might finally be going senile.
Tins of peaches. River loves peaches.
[[Open to anyone who wants to go to the market, jiggety-jig.]]
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