Morning came with the sound of birdsong. The wind that floated in through the open windows was cool, and despite the lump in my side I didn’t really want to get out of bed. But I knew I had to, and when the discomfort became too much I hoisted myself to my feet.

I’d come here with only a backpack full of clothes, and those clothes were all pretty boring. Just different coloured t-shirts and another pair of jeans. Jackson had only packed two pairs of trousers when he came out here? Strange. I headed into the shower, which was thankfully inside, and stepped into the old school clawfoot tub. The water pressure was abysmal, but at least it was warm. Grandpa Joe’s soap smelled like old person – you know that musky leathery kind of soap? – but I didn’t mind it. There was no shampoo or conditioner, so I’d need to buy some of that while I was in town too.

The only food left in the house was a bunch of canned and pickled goods, but nothing breakfast-worthy. I decided to buy some breakfast while I was in town. But before I could leave, I wanted to make sure I watered my tomato crops first. I checked my energy meter, and it was full. That was a good sign. Even though I didn’t sleep as well as I could have on the lumpy bed, I hadn’t suffered any penalties to my energy meter.

When I finally got going, I was a little worried about getting behind the wheel of the Matsuda Hauler. While the truck did start, it sounded rough. I had no idea whether the pickup truck would even make it all the way to town. It was a straight shot from the road outside the farmhouse into town, so if the worst happened, at least I would be able to walk the rest of the way.

I put the truck into gear and drove it out of the shed. I couldn't tell whether it was the steering that pulled to the left, or if it was the road itself that was uneven. There was also an odd knock in the steering wheel that I had to compensate for, and my assumption from the previous day was correct. The Hauler didn't have power steering. Ah well, it looked like my arm muscles were in for a workout.

It was a gorgeous day, with the sun hanging lazily in the sky. It was warm but not hot, without a cloud to be seen. Those same blue and gray birds flew overhead in a flock, but I couldn't hear their song over the sound of the engine. There was also a quite concerning acrid smell in the air, and I had a bad feeling it was coming from the truck.

The drive into town was longer than it felt the day before, but that was probably because I couldn't just relax and take in the picturesque scenery. The road between the farm and Yucaborough had a few potholes, and the shoulders of the road dropped off into deep grassy recesses. There was a forest on the left side of the road, and some grazing fields off to the right. Another farmhouse sat in the center of those fields, and it was comforting to know that I wouldn't be the only one living off the land here. The herds of black and white cows made me think it was a dairy farm.

I passed by the "Welcome to Yucaborough'' sign and smiled to myself. Underneath that main message read another line: “The fertile heart of the Yuca Valley!”

When I reached the town there were barely any other cars on the roads, and the Matsuda certainly turned some heads as it coughed and sputtered down the road. Marlene had shown me where Carl's Automotive was the night before, so I knew exactly where to go.

The garage was open, and there was a four-door sedan up on the car lift. Two men stood underneath the car, pointing at something of interest or concern. They both turned in my direction when I pulled into the parking lot.

They both abandoned their job and walked out of the garage with incredulous looks on their faces.

"I tell you what, Carl. I was joking when I said that old Joe would die before he brought the old truck in for a check-up. I wish I was wrong," the younger of the mechanics said. He was a fairly plain looking young man, with brown hair that he kept out of his eyes with a greasy old trucker’s cap.

The other one, Carl, responded in a sad voice. "I wish you were wrong too, Jimmy."

"You must be Carl," I said. "Marlene told me to come on by and get this old rust bucket checked out-"

Carl's face lit up with outrage. "Rust bucket? The Matsuda Hauler is a classic! Don't you dare talk about this gorgeous old girl like that. She might have a little rust on the body, but just look at those curves. She's still got it."

He had a point. "I know she does. But I want to make sure she's not going to run me off the road or blow up when I need her most. Can you take a look at her?"

Carl nodded solemnly. He even took off his hat, revealing a shock of unruly red hair to match his ginger mustache and goatee. "Of course I can. I've been waiting almost ten years to look under her bonnet. Ever since I took over the shop from my dad. Just pull her in over there, okay?"

I pulled into the park that Carl pointed me towards. The Hauler sputtered as I brought her to a stop, then she shot a puff of black exhaust for effect. Carl came up next to the car and ran his open hand over the curved wheel covers.

"Don't worry, we'll get you fixed up as best we can," Carl said, and he sounded like he was actually talking to the car. He was crooning to it like it was a long lost lover.

I stepped out and handed the keys over to him.

"Thanks. What'd you say your name was?" Carl asked.

"I'm Jackson Jones. Joe's grandson."

"Jackson. It's nice to meet you. Welcome to our little slice of paradise. This will probably take a few hours, so why don't you take the opportunity to go for a little wander through town?" Carl asked.

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"You should definitely check out the coffee shop! I swear, without one of Quinn's vanilla lattes to start the day, I'd be asleep by midday!"

"That's not why you go in there every morning, Jimmy. I know that Quinn's the one that gets your engine running." Carl elbowed Jimmy in the ribs, and the young man's face went a deep shade of red.

"Shut up, Carl!"

"Hey, I'm your boss. You can't tell me to shut up."

"Oh, you want to bet? Shut up, Carl!"

Carl laughed it off, then Jimmy laughed nervously as well. I left the mechanics to do what needed to be done.

Just across the road from Carl’s Automotive was a coffee shop called Morning Ritual. I chuckled to myself at the joke in the name, then crossed the road to see what they had on offer. I was pretty hungry by then, and I always loved going out for breakfast. The front of the store he gave me some witchy vibes. There were decals on the windows of a coffee cup being stirred by a witch. The aroma plumes that rose from the cup became a floating ephemeral skull.

I didn’t know what to expect from the coffee shop, but it certainly wasn’t this kind of edgy goth aesthetic. When I entered the store, the trend continued. This world clearly didn’t have the same attitude towards workplace health and safety, because every table had a lit candle burning in the center. Old school electric light bulbs with large yellow filaments in the center cast the whole place in an ethereal glow. There was a chalkboard hung from the wall behind the counter that showed the menu, just above a window that opened into a kitchen. A harried looking cook rushed across the window towards something that sizzled.

There was one girl behind the counter, and her aesthetic matched the cafe perfectly. She had long two-toned hair of pink and purple, with heavy eyeliner on and a full set of lips covered by a dark burgundy lipstick. She wore the kind of clothes that you would expect an alternative rocker to wear, which was mostly black with clasps and zips in places you wouldn’t expect. She had the aesthetic of a surly punk rocker, but her demeanor changed completely when she looked up and smiled at me. Her eyes closed as the smile spread across her face, and I could see why Jimmy had fallen head over heels in love with her. This must be Quinn.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning yourself,” Quinn replied. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Are you new in town? Just passing through?”

“Yes to the first question, and no to the second question. My name’s Jackson and I guess this is my first morning in the wonderful town of Yucaborough. I think I’ll be staying here for quite some time. I’m not sure if you knew my grandfather Joseph Jones?”

A look of sadness came over Quinn’s face just then. “Yeah, I knew Old Joe. He was a lovely old guy. Never used to come in here much but I saw him around. I was really sad to hear when he passed away. So, you’re taking over the farm then?”

“Apparently so. There is a lot of work to be done, and I think it’s going to take me a while to really get things moving. I’ve just got some time to kill while Carl and Jimmy across the road check out my grandpa’s old truck. They suggested that I come over here and try your coffee. It comes very highly recommended.”

Quinn laughed at that. “I think Jimmy has a reputation for overstating the quality of the coffee here. I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s good, he talks about it like it’s some kind of magical elixir or something.”

“Are you sure It isn’t? I mean you’ve got the whole witchy vibe going on here, so it’s only natural for one to assume that your coffee might have some magical properties.”

Quinn laughed, and I immediately loved the way her laugh sounded. It was full bodied and unrestrained, with no holding back.

“Yes, I will forever be a disappointment to my parents who wanted me to be a doctor or a scientist or something. But that just wasn’t a life for me, you know? It’s just not how things worked out.”

“I understand that probably a little better than you would believe,” I said. “So, what would you recommend? When you look at me, what kind of coffee drinker do you see?”

“Hmm, that is a tough one.” She leaned over the counter towards me, and the inquisitive look on her face kind of made me feel like I was heading down the same path that Jimmy had already stumbled down.

“I don’t get the vibe that you are an espresso kind of guy. When I look into your eyes, I feel like there’s something more there than what someone as young as you should be thinking and feeling. You’ve had some troubles in your past, and I don’t think it’s just what’s happened with your grandpa. You know pain, and to remain unburned by whatever it is that you’ve lived through is a victory. But you’re also not a boring guy. You like a little bit of spice in your life, right? I think you might enjoy a chai latte, or maybe you like life a little on the sweeter side?”

I grinned. “How on earth did you get that much insight just from looking at me?”

“Was I right?” Quinn asked with a sly grin on her face.

“You were spot on. Vanilla latte is my drink of choice, or if I’m watching my sugar intake I’ll go for a dirty chai.”

The older I got the less coffee I was able to drink, and the less sugar that my doctors wanted me to drink as well. I didn’t need to worry about any of that right now. I just wanted to keep this conversation going for as long as I could.

“So which is it, sweet or dirty?” Quinn asked with a coy smile.

“Sweet this morning, I think.” My cheeks grew warm as I blushed, and Quinn turned away with a satisfied smile.

“What breakfast would you recommend?” I asked.

“Well if you’re in the mood for sweet, then Darren makes delicious waffles. His signature is grilled banana and salted caramel.”

“Hm, I do have to do some work later, and a sugar crash probably isn’t the best way to spend my afternoon. Do you do Eggs Benedict?”

Quinn looked at me with a confused look on her face. “What’s that?”

A sudden pang of panic rushed through me. Had I been reborn into a world where eggs benedict didn’t exist? Maybe dying would have been better…

“You know it's toast with bacon and poached eggs and a creamy sauce?” I asked.

“Is that what you call it in the city? Eggs benedict? You’re talking about an eggs royale, and yes it's right there on the menu.”

“What do you call the sauce that goes on top?” They wouldn't call it hollandaise if there was no such thing as Holland in this world.

“It’s Norskanaise, of course. Which planet did you come from, Jackson Jones?”

“I’m still trying to work that one out,” I responded noncommittally, But that made Quinn laugh again.

“Okay you weirdo. That'll be six dollars and twenty-five cents.”

I handed over the money, getting confused between the different colors of different notes, and different shapes of different coins. The coins were a strange denomination, much different from the world I'd come from.

Back where I lived you had pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters, and then you started using paper money with dollar bills from there up. But here it looked like the coins came in five, ten, twenty, and fifty cent varieties. They were copper in color and each was a slightly different shape. Then there were one and two dollar coins which were silver, not copper. The bills started at five dollars, then progressed to tens, twenties, and something else after that. A twenty dollar note was the highest denomination I had on me.

“Go and take a seat, Jackson Jones. Darren will have your eggs royale ready quick smart. Now there’s a line of thirsty coffee drinkers I need to see to, so skedaddle!”

“Thanks, it was lovely meeting you,” I mumbled as I shuffled out of the way.

Quinn gave her head an exasperated-but-amused shake as she served the next person in line.