He woke up to the sound of his cell phone ringing. A light drizzle was falling. It was daylight, grey clouds like a sheet looming over the trees.

The person ringing him was not a saved contact. Somebody new. He answered the call.

“Yello?”

“Hello. We’ve been meaning to call you about your car’s-” he immediately hung up on the prerecorded scam message.

It was two o’clock in the afternoon. He had slept somewhere around thirteen hours straight on his front porch. Of course his back now had a stiffness and an ache to it as a consequence. He grumbled, standing up and bracing his hands on his back to pop his spine. A sharp grunt through teeth slammed shut echoed down the hill and across the road as he bent back. Damn, that hurt. But he felt more limber now.

Luckily he received no calls today. A benefit of working freelance, though the detriment of not making steady money was there. Time to just be a hick and go into town for a drink, then.

The barrier on the way to town was removed, actually. Cutting Gus’s trip down to a paltry drive. As he took his seat at the bar, he heard murmurs from the table behind him, and tuned in to eavesdrop.

“My boy, Snowy- he told me that purple lizard girl, whatnot, you know, the big one? She’s been hanging around with that human boy the Dreemurrs adopted years back.”

“No shit? My niece says she’s scared of that kid. Wonder what got her and a quiet type like Kris hanging around each other.”

“Well you know, it’s like my Mama used to say, I guess. Odd pairs are made every day…”

Gus was sitting on a barstool, twisted around in his seat, staring out at the graffiti. About a third of it was washed away by now, but they’d have to make a second pass. Some ugly smearing on some of the bricks. His eavesdropping on the conversation between the two monsters seated to his right was cut off when Grillby approached him.

“Hey Gus. Will it be the usual?”

“Yeah.”

Grillby put a shot glass on the bar and filled it with whiskey. Gus downed it and it went down poorly. He winced and grimaced as the alcohol burned his nostrils.

“You sure you need to be drinking right now? You look unwell.”

Gus was taken aback. Arnie had come up from behind him.

"Whatchu talkin' 'bout, Arnie? You know I only have two shots a day."

“You uh… your eyes." The purple cat answered. "They look tired. Like you didn’t sleep well.”

“Yeah…” he sighed. “I slept a little hard last night. Too much, actually. I got more than enough.”

“Huh.” Arnie eased up in the barstool next to Gus. “You have any idea what caused it?”

“No.”

“Could be the stress...” Arnie answered in an instant.

Gus looked back at him. The purple cat sat straight up.

Without missing a beat, Arnie spoke again, “Stress… caused by unfinished business.”

You must be joking.

Arnie wasn’t a bad man. He was a big jolly guy just interested in buying some land. He was probably the friendliest guy in town, but he had moments where he knew what he wanted and he would pursue it tirelessly in his own way. Even if it was something like the purchase of a piece of land he didn’t have the money for. Dancing his own little waltz of friendly manipulation.

“Business which I can help you with.”

What the fuck was this?

Arnie approached this with some kind of nerve. But maybe his confidence wasn’t misplaced. He knew his offer was the highest Gus had received in town so far. But Gus couldn’t just hand that land away for fifteen grand less than it was worth.

Arnie was about to continue his pitch when Gus cut him off, mildly irritated. “Can- can we not do this today?”

Arnie froze. He curled his lips in, his whiskers bunching up. He huffed out a hot breath through his nose. “Okay. Some other time.”

“May I please have my second shot?” Gus asked, turning back to Grillby.

Grillby poured Gus his second shot. This one went as rough as the last, and the bitter taste lingered in his throat as he left a five on the counter and walked out the door.

When Gus got back to his place he noticed his porch was dusty. Well, he hadn’t just noticed it. He had known. But for whatever reason, the mood he was in made him feel like doing something about it. So he found the old straw broom in his kitchen closet and started sweeping, brushing bit after bit of the dry filth out from under his roof and into the rain. He was about halfway through when he heard the sound of shoes scraping the asphalt of the road and the squishing of wet, fallen leaves being pushed around and stepped on.

It was the lizard girl. She barely seemed to notice the light drizzle dampening her hair. Instead it was Gus she seemed to notice. He was staring again. She turned to look at him, and though her eyes were covered by a curtain of thick, damp brunette locks, he could feel her white-hot stare piercing through him. But it didn’t stir him. He didn’t feel fear. No. He just felt a vague sense of unease, layered with sadness.

“What are you staring at, old fart?” She asked him.

“Someone who doesn’t want to go home.”

The words just slipped out. It was like he didn’t even consciously say it. The thought popped in his mind and out it came, as though it had a will of its own. He gave away his own shock at his directness by lightly dropping his jaw.

The lizard girl must have noticed, because the next words out of her mouth were “Mind your own damn business.” She stormed off, hands in her jacket, toward her house.

He watched her go, and went right back to sweeping his porch.

It was right as he sat in bed that his cell phone rang.

“Hello?” he answered, hoping it would be a genuine call this time, and not some scam.

“Excuse me.” The voice was a woman’s. Soft and gentle, slightly weathered and motherly. “Is this Gus?”

“That’d be me.”

“I understand you do…” The sound of shuffling paper crackled over the speaker. She must have had one of his fliers. “...freelance maintenance and construction? Plumbing, woodwork, things like that?”

“That’d be under the umbrella of things that I do, yes ma’am.”

“Well, I’ve... I’ve got a bad leak in the pipes under my sink, and I’ve been saving up to replace my kitchen cabinets for some time now. I figure it would be nice to have them hand cut and carved.”

First time he had been asked to make something by hand for a while. And for once it wasn’t a god damn porch. Something lighter, less rough, easier to move around and install. Something for a quaint little kitchen.

“Absolutely. I’d love to. We can discuss rates when I... uhh... see you in person.”

“Oh, delightful! What’s the soonest you can come over?”

“Tomorrow, I’ve got nothing else going on all week so far. Just name a time.”

“Great, great! Come down around five thirty! I live down that short road you take at the west end of North Street, right before the gate. It’s a right turn.”

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to meeting you!”

“Me too, miss-.”

“Toriel. Please, call me Toriel.”

“I’ll see you then, Miss Toriel. You have a nice night, now.”

"Thanks, you too."

Gus went to sleep feeling a little excited about what tomorrow held in store.