Chapter 6. Lucy Wal-Mart September 12th

Lucy’s feet hurt, it hadn’t been a good day. First Anthony had a really bad day. His dementia was worse, he kept trying to leave and go to work. The more she tried to correct him the more argumentative he became. Then to make matters worse he shit himself.

Chapter 4 September 10th 2025

Grace pushed the big shopping cart thing and searched for the specific jar of pickles that had been eluding her for far too long. It wasn’t so much that the job of “personal shopper” at Wal-Mart was hard, it was just very dull. It did have it’s advantages, she could leave her earbud in and listen to music, and she didn’t have to talk to people.

She glanced left and two young guys whose t-shirts confessed their love of hunting and cage fighting were coming her way.

Chapter 2: Lucy Sep 8th

Lucy crouched beside the recliner and unlatched the valve on Anothony’s catheter bag. The plastic hissed softly as the urine emptied into the pitcher she kept for this. She checked the line, wiped the spout, and tugged at the edge of his disposable brief, clean, thank God. No mess today.

Darren “Whit” Whitlock punched in his code and walked into the mailroom. As usual he was greeted by the smell of cheap coffee. He rubbed his eyes and made a beeline for the breakroom where took his stained St. Louis Art Museum mug from the shelf and filled it from the ancient stainless steel coffee pot.

Marley stood alone, leaning against her bike and watched Stacey struggle over the crest of the hill and roll to a stop a few feet from her. The exhausted girl slumped over the bars to catch her breath. “Sorry this was way too hard of a ride for someone who hasn’t rode before,” Marley said.

“Now you tell me!” Stacey said looking up, then laughed and said “Thanks for waiting on me.”

Stacey and Brita rolled into the parking lot of Campus Cycles a few minutes early and immediately felt like they were on another planet. There were three distinct groups gathered in the parking lot, A tight group of athletic riders in skintight lycra stood around with sleek high tech bicycles that looked more like something from the future. A second group of riders mostly on similar bikes but with less uniformity in clothing style and body shape formed a second group, and a third group appeared to be composed of more women in far more casual clothing and bikes more like hers.

Marley and her friends had staked out a regular spot in the student center and met there like clockwork every Thursday between classes. It was a secluded corner on the third floor with comfy couches near a piano that would often be played by students. "So can I talk you guys into coming to ride with me tonight," Marley asked, speaking slightly loud over the music student playing piano.