THANKS TO Jean-Baptiste Coursaud
Nanna Holst Wohlert
Martin Rauff-Nielsen
Erik Barkman
Cecil Castellucci
Thomas Vium
Silja Lin
It takes a village to make a comic, so thank you for taking the time to help out with it.
Ode to a small town:
The town is placed at the end of the world. The place where the crows turn and where only cactus roses are able to flourish.
Outside the only bar in town, you can find an old man smoking. His hat is set low over his brow.
A pitcher of sweet tea beside him is sweating in the sun. Sit by his knee and he might pour you a glass. Tell you stories of when this country was new.
The old ladies who came into the cantina for their lunch break were talking about him before he had even set a foot in the main street. A young man with a simple duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a camera hanging around his neck.
He comes into the cantina asking for a cappuccino, then changes it to water when Primrose doesn’t know what that is. Not unkindly so. Major had left his trust fund and ivy league college to go see the world. He’s a photographer. With big dreams of documenting the true face of the country. He talks about the places he’s been and the people he’s met. He listens to her when she talks about the history of the town and the people who come through the door as the afternoon goes on. The next day he comes back for more.
Major looks at her like he’s found the only other real person in the world and Primrose, who has only ever been the small town girl and never met someone like him, falls head over heels in love. He is a drifter by nature yet he does what nobody thought him capable of; he settles down.
“The train is gonna be here at any minute,” he says as he drops down to sit with her among their luggage. The station is empty except for the man they bought the tickets from. He barely looked at them as they paid.
“I’ve never traveled by train,” she tells him. She’s never needed to.
“You’ll love it.” He pats her on the knee and she refrains from squirming. He sags even further into their luggage and sends her a coy smirk. With a huff, she turns to avoid his gaze. The horizon is only broken up by barely noticeable ridges in the distance. The train should be visible from miles away.
“We could have taken a car.” She murmurs, Cars are reliable, they take you where you need to go. No chance of a car just up and leaving without you.
“A train gets you farther. Far away. That’s where we wanna go. Just keep looking.”
“What if the train doesn’t come?”
“Then we take another.” Then another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and who knows where they end up at that point?
“But what if?”
“Any minute now.”
It’s an old car. Barely worth a dime. Major, Being a man with a silver tongue and a white toothed smile, got it for even less than that. Major has yet to meet a problem he can’t talk himself out of.
Lacquered twice. First, when it rolled across the factory floors. Second time in a suburban driveway when a teenager made it his home and lovingly named her Christine.
Something rattles in her vents. The tires are worn thin. The left front seat is permanently stuck too close to the dashboard. There’s scuff marks on the ceiling from when he moved out of his parents place. Now, as a man, he is ready to let her go.
She still has one adventure left in her, the man says as he hands over the keys. Primrose couldn’t be happier.
The bar is nothing to write home about. The soles of your shoes cling to the floor and smoke has permeated the place for so many years, you can drag a finger through the layer that covers the top of the bar. In the back hall there’s something that resembles dance floor. A disco ball gamely ticking on tired tracks. Its grimy surface reflects dull splotches of colored light onto the two shapes dancing below it.
Primrose has never been a good dancer. Limbs too long, too uncoordinated. But she didn’t have to be with Major’s hands placed firmly on her hips. Her lips skirt down his neck. His hands tighten around her hips. Hands sink lower.
The bartender yells at them to leave space for Jesus. Major flips him off, then drags her out of the bar. Laughing, they run into the night.
The horizon is hazy. Like a bad Rothko. Like a fat brush has been dragged across it. A big splotch where the sun is going down.
There is a pebble he cannot get out of his shoe.
