“Up and at ‘em!”

“Mhrr-hmm…” he rolled over, flailing his limbs in the oppressive heat. His legs were suffocated in a tangle of sheets.

“Jason, it’s me, Sierra,” a kind, familiar voice said, “ …and breakfast’s waiting.”

“Mhrr – what?” He sat up suddenly. The little apartment was scorchingly bright and singing with the humid dawn. There, at the foot of the bed stood Sierra, her shining amber waves framing her speckled, smiling face, and brawny arms folded across her violet-clad chest. How had she gotten into his room – and why?

“That’s right, I made breakfast. It’s in my room, if you care to join me.” She smiled under her lashes in mock-bashfulness.

“What time is it?” He asked, self-consciously combing his jagged black hair with his fingers. Usually he got up early.

“Oh…” her tongue clicked as she thought, “five forty-five?”

No wonder I didn’t wake up! “Yeah, I guess I’ll come,” he said, his thoughts still muffled by a sleepy daze.

“Alright, I’ll put it in the oven to stay warm.” She flashed a grin – her teeth were crooked, but immaculately white.

A yawn tore through his mouth in a silent scream as he heard the door fly shut. He stumbled out of bed and over to the porch door, heat surrounding his body as it stepped into the deluge of morning sun. The dew-encrusted marsh gleamed, every swarming insect illuminated as it swam in the heavy air. He yawned again, and began to ready himself for the day.

**

A bitter wave of smoke drenched him as he opened Sierra’s door. Coughing, he took a startled step backwards before stepping into the murky room. The whole apartment looked as though it were a photograph, muted with an even layer of charcoal. At the far end, Sierra was holding something on the porch.

“Is that you, Jason?” she called somewhat hoarsely through the smoke.

“Yeah,” he coughed.

“Come over here – I think we might be able to save a bit of it.”

Walking through the foggy apartment, he saw the reason for the smoke: the little oven was open and the heat was on high.

“Should I turn off the oven?”

“Isn’t it already off?” She called back distractedly.

Yes, I can definitely see the reason for the smoke, he thought as he turned the flimsy plastic knob, before making his way to the glass doors.

She was holding a white plastic plate on which sprawled some blackened bits of mashed food. She smiled apologetically, “It was an omelet.”

Keyword: “was,” he thought.

They shared the few bland pieces of omelet, sitting together on the railing. The eggs were burnt and the potatoes pretty much raw, but they enjoyed it nonetheless – or Sierra did, anyway.

“Isn’t it a beautiful morning?” she said as Jason swatted eager flies away from the burnt breakfast. “The sun’s so bright and warm… it makes you forget about all the bad things of the world and be happy to be alive – don’t you think?”

He attempted an answer, but gagged on the charred food. He tried to cough, but it came out as a whining gurgle.

“You alright?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he croaked, then smiled weakly.

“Sorry about the food – I put it in the oven to keep warm, then came out here to wait for you and the next thing I knew…” she gestured towards the smoke still trickling out the door. She stabbed the last chunk of blackened omelet and stuffed it in her mouth.

After a few minutes of muggy silence, she turned towards him, her legs swinging over the railing, “Where are you from?”

Her pointed face was curious and expectant, but not nosey. “Well I grew up around here, but I live in Colorado now.”

“Going to school there?”

“Yeah. And working… at a restaurant.”

“A restaurant? You’ll have to make breakfast next time,” she giggled, one index finger tapping him playfully on the shoulder.

He grinned and shrugged uncomfortably. “What about you?”

“I live in Canada,” she said, her expression flattening. “Studying, running, swimming – you know. I want to do more hiking, but they don’t let me get out that much.” Though he was curious, Jason didn’t ask who “they” were. “This is the first time I’ve taken a vacation on my own like this.” She paused, her long fingers toying with the gleaming metal of the fork. She looked up at the marsh and swiped a cloud of insects away from her face. “Today would be a good day for a hike, don’t you think?” she asked, snapping her gaze towards him. Her eyes were gleaming again.

He nodded slowly, frowning; he had been thinking along the same lines that morning.

“Let’s go,” she said, grinning.

**

After packing water bottles, trail mixes and other supplies in their respective rooms, Jason and Sierra met up outside the welcome booth. They entered, with a giggle of bells and growl of hinges. Doily flounced over to them and Jason backed away, but Sierra squatted down and began scratching the purring dust ball under its chin. How she could find the chin through the fluffy fur, Jason didn’t know. The door behind the desk opened and a stocky fellow with a tattered Chaplin mustache appeared.

He introduced himself as Mark, Ingrid’s husband and, at their request, handed them five tourist pamphlets describing different nature reserves and trails in the area. They thanked him and left.

“Shall I drive?” Sierra asked as their feet squelched through the muddy pebbles of the parking lot.

He took a sidelong glance at her; her arms were swinging and a childishly enthusiastic spring bedecked her every step. Sure, she was animated, but maybe she wasn’t actually all-out mad, as he had thought at first. Still, she was spacey – as the breakfast attempt had shown – and driving in these narrow roads took concentration.

“I’ll drive,” he said.

_____________

Like I said on part one, this is an experimental piece. I don't usually write things like this. Any advise/criticism is, of course, welcome. If you can, please try to answer these questions in your reviews:

1. Are you getting a feeling for Jason and Sierra's characters?

2. How's the pace? Do I go too quickly/slowly?

Thanks!