Release

Every morning before the sun appeared, Harper found herself outside her small shop, sweeping the porch without fail.

She exhaled, resting her hands on top of the straw broom. She’d still be sweeping this porch in forty years, fighting the endless battle with the sand. And what else did she have to look forward to? She had nothing but her candle shop.

Her parents had died years ago, and this small shop with her tiny apartment above it was all Harper had left of them.

Looking up, she could make out just a hint of the rainbow effect of the morning light kissing the dome’s protective glass over the city.

She shivered, pulling her shawl tighter around her body. The air was chilly and bleak, as there was no warmth from the sun. Not that it wasn’t a good thing. Without the dome to stop the harmful rays, the entire city would perish.

The dome had saved the city years ago, but at what cost? Were there others out there? This small city of just under a thousand people could be all that’s left of humanity.

These were things Harper couldn’t help but wonder about in the quiet mornings before the streets bustled with people.

Her shop was located on Front Street, just at the edge of the city. It wasn’t the best for business. No, that would have been at the center of the dome. Still, she did okay here on the outskirts. In fact, she liked it. The benefit was she could see beyond the walls anytime she looked outside.

Not that beyond the walls was interesting. It was just sand for as far as the eye could see. Vast desert stretching out in all directions. Even so, it gave her a feeling that the world wasn’t as small.

But there were also times when the vastness was frightening. The sandstorms that frequently raged outside howled in their fury, like a living thing beating at the walls, looking for a way in. They made her feel small and fragile. 

She shook her head at the turn her thoughts had taken. There was no sense in dwelling on fears. Not in this town, where life was a daily struggle as everyone toiled just to keep from starving with the ever-dwindling supplies in the dome.

Instead, she set about unlocking the doors for the morning rush of business. People liked to get their candles early, as most wouldn’t finish their workday until well after dark.

She lit the candles in the storefront window, creating a soft, flickering glow that was cast on the shelves. Some shelves were missing, having cracked. They didn’t have wood for repairs inside the dome, so the aging city was slowly crumbling around them. Every new creak in the old bones of the shop was a source of fear that her livelihood was at risk. That one day she’d only have a pile of rubble left. 

Harper swallowed and busied herself setting up the old register. It was one of the last still functioning in the city. Like the withered shop, she inherited it from her father. She had to smack the drawer to get it to open, but even so, it was better than keeping her money in a box like most store owners in the city.

The jingle of the bell over the door interrupted her thoughts, and without turning, she knew it was old Mrs. Peterson. Her rasping breaths seemed loud in the early morning hours, and her unsteady gait made a distinct cadence on the wooden floors. Besides, she was always the first to show in the mornings, like clockwork.

After that, the string of customers kept Harper busy until well into the late afternoon. She was thankful for the distraction because outside she could see the sky darkening, but not from the setting sun.

A storm was coming.

She’d tried to ignore the faint howl for the last few hours as the winds battered the thin walls of the dome. But now, there was a lull in customers that only happened on sandstorm days. Everyone hurried home after work, unwilling to stop for shopping, even for necessities.

Even though the dome protected them from the worst of it, the streets became clogged with dust hanging in the air so thick you could barely see. There were very few souls that ever ventured out into the dust.

Harper crossed to the window and glanced outside, even as dread settled in her belly. Just as she suspected, the dust already hung heavy in the air. She could barely make out the rickety wooden shops and apartments across the narrow street.

She would close up shop for the night so she could huddle upstairs and hope the dome held off the storm. That’s all she could do.

She was about to turn away when a black shape caught her eye. It was moving towards her shop. It was a moment before she could make out that it was a man. He made his way up to her porch.

She reached up, her hand on the lock, ready to throw it. She didn’t recognize him, and she knew all her regular customers. He must be from another part of the city. He was a big man, and there was no way to protect herself if he wanted to harm her.

But she hesitated, hand on the lock, ready to slide it home.

The man didn’t push on the door or even knock. He just slowly tipped his head up, revealing his eyes. They were all that was visible of his face between the brim of his worn cowboy hat and a black handkerchief tied across his nose and mouth.

She had to crane her neck to meet his eyes as he towered above her, filling the doorway. There was nothing separating them but a rotten wood door with a small piece of glass to see through. The man could probably break down the door, but he just waited, his eyes searching hers.

The dust swirled behind him, becoming thicker. She could no longer see the buildings across the street at all.

Swallowing, she held his eyes. They looked like kind eyes. Something about the way he waited without pushing her, even though a storm raged around him, struck her. Making her consider going against her better judgment. Letting him inside was foolish and could be her end. There would be no one to interrupt them if he decided to harm her, and no one she could call out to for help.

But something deep inside her was tired of the endless monotony of life and being afraid. This small spark compelled her to remove her hand from the lock and grasp the door handle, opening it.

The wind immediately grabbed hold of the door, pushing it inward with enough force to rip it from her hand.

The man moved too quickly for her to track, grabbing the door before it crashed against the wall. He pushed inside, forcing her back, and shouldered the door closed. The sound of the lock engaging echoed like a gunshot.

Her heart galloped in her chest, and she stumbled back, the boards under her feet groaning with a familiarity that struck her as odd in this moment. She’d just made a horrible, possibly life-ending mistake.

He slowly turned, looking down at her. Somehow seeming even larger than before.

She inched back further toward the old stairs behind her. Her only recourse would be to get up the stairs to her apartment and shut the door before he reached her.

His eyes narrowed as he tracked her movement. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice deep and gruff. “Just wanted out of the storm is all.”

She swallowed and took another step back.

The man reached up, pulling off his hat and the handkerchief in quick, efficient movements. “Ma’am, please don’t be frightened.” He bowed his head and seemed to fold in on himself, like he was trying to make himself smaller and less threatening.

Something about the gesture made her draw in the first full breath she’d taken since opening the door. The pressure in her chest eased, and her heart slowed.

For the first time, she really looked at him. His black clothing and tall stature made him seem intimidating. At a second glance, he was possibly the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her life. Her eyes traced over him, noting the wedding band on the hand holding his hat.

He was someone’s husband. Her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled, partly in relief, at him even though he was still looking at the floor.

“It’s a good thing you found the shop in time. It looks bad out there.”

The man lifted his head, and he seemed to relax when he saw her smile. “Yes ma’am. You were the only place I saw still open.”

She nodded. “Your wife is probably worried sick about you being stuck out in this storm.”

His eyes dimmed, and his voice was curt when he answered. “She isn’t worried about anything anymore.”

Harper’s brows wrinkled. She couldn’t believe that his wife would be so uncaring that he wasn’t back home before the storm set in. She knew that it happened to people sometimes, and when it did, it usually resulted in death or, if they survived, severe respiratory problems later from all the dust.

Still, it was clearly a subject he wasn’t interested in discussing. Instead, she turned to the shelves behind her and started moving around some of her candles, trying to appear busy. “You can make yourself comfortable until the storm passes,” she said.

He cleared his throat and his voice seemed thicker than before. “Thank you.”

Behind her, she was very aware of him crossing the room to the old wooden chair she had in the shop’s corner, his boots clanking on the floors as he went. The chair let out a groan as the man sat, like it was protesting his heavy frame.

For the next few minutes, the silence stretched out between them. She could feel his eyes on her, and it made her nerves grow. A part of her wanted to make an excuse and got up to her apartment, shutting the heavy wooden door between them and try to pretend he wasn’t downstairs. She wanted to do that, but she couldn’t leave him alone in her shop.

Instead, the tension grew, hanging heavy in the dry air, amplified by the howling wind and the darkness swirling past the windows as the turbulence raged outside.

After a while, she was ready to snap. She continued casually moving around the stock. “What part of the city are you from?”

“Glenville,” the man replied.

Glenville was on the opposite side of the dome from her shop. It would take the better part of a day to walk there. Longer if the streets were as packed as they usually were. “What are you doing over here in Longville?”

The chair let out a grunt as the man shifted. “Had business here.”

She swallowed, her anxiety rising at his cryptic responses. Suddenly, she didn’t care if he was in her shop. He could take whatever he wanted. She was going up to her apartment. She started towards the stairs, not bothering to hide her quickened steps.

Behind her, she heard him rise. “I’m sorry. Please. Stay.”

She paused with one hand resting on the old banister that was just barely clinging to the wall, with little support left.

“I find that...” he hesitated, taking a moment. “I’m not great with people these days,” he continued. “Not that I ever was, but it’s definitely worse now. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She slowly relaxed her grip on the railing and turned. Once again, he was standing with his hat in his hands, but this time, his eyes were on her. They were sad, hollow eyes that seemed to almost beg her. He looked weary. Or maybe she was just projecting because she’d been so dissatisfied with her life lately.

“It’s okay,” she found herself reassuring him. “I’m not so great with people these days either.”

His eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

She found his curiosity ironic since he’d refused to answer any of her questions, but she let that go. If they were stuck together for now, she might as well talk to him. If she had to do all the talking, then so be it. At least it wouldn’t be that uncomfortable silence. Or worse, fear. 

“My mother died when I was young. Barely old enough to remember her,” Harper explained. “My father passed away three years ago.” She still felt a pang in her chest as she thought of her father. “I really only get to chat with my customers now.”

The man’s face tightened, his lips curving down. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gruff. “I know what it’s like to lose someone.”

She swallowed down a wave of grief. Even after three years, she still missed her father every day. “It changes everything,” she whispered, finally giving voice to those thoughts that she’d buried so deeply inside herself. “Like when you lose a piece of yourself that you can never get back.”

The man nodded, his eyes softening with understanding. “I lost my wife two years ago. It’s like the world just stops spinning and everything is different. Only no one knows it but you."

She swallowed, feeling the grief pouring off him. His entire demeanor made sense now. It was clear he was still grieving. “I’m so sorry,” she said. It was more than a platitude. Her heart ached for him. She was aware of the feeling of loss and how it affected everything. 

A look of understanding passed between them, and she felt closer to this stranger than she had to anyone in years. Yet, she didn’t even know his name. “What’s your name?”

“Derek.”

“I’m Harper,” she said, suddenly a lot more comfortable with him. 

He nodded. 

Her nerves kicked in for a different reason, but she wanted to ask. “Derek, would you like to come upstairs for dinner?”

His lips tilted up ever so slightly and awkwardly, like he hadn’t let himself smile in a long time. “I would.”

She grinned at him and led the way up the creaking stairs, the sounds not even bothering her. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly happy and excited about something. It was a break in the monotony, and even though the terrifying storm raged outside, it made her feel free.