... welcome to a small corner of the universe you can still go back to reality

series of moments in a story following Freyja and Marah

"Do you think that things will go different this time?" She always tilted her questions in such a sweet way with her voice, managing to pierce each moment in the air. So often that tone of hers would leave Freyja’s heart skipping a beat, even times like these when the situation certainly was not supposed to feel romantic. Marah always made anything and everything feel different in that way, leaving any feelings of dread in the air to be damned.

It shouldn't sound so serious, really, Marah just brought about such a deep flair for the dramatic. It led to a grandness in moments as simple as these. She had her reasons to worry, and Freyja could only do so much to console them. Her voice never came as soft as she wished it would, nor did she feel adequate enough at reassuring her girlfriend over these matters. She would speak anyway, a broken record of a phrase by the time it echoed here, "They gave you a second shot, it’s obvious that they’re interested, you'll be great."

Marah poked around at the concoction of egg, sausage, and cheese on her plate. Something that had been tossed into a pan for an odd number of minutes, however long she had spent been pacing around the rest of her and Freyja’s shared spaces. It was one of many traits of hers that left Freyja believing the woman’s life depended on moving forward. Everything that she did seemed to be planned years in advanced, refined in a series of journals and scrapbooks of personal artifacts she’d kept from the moment she learned to write.

As much as she sat in silence and stirred her breakfast like it might’ve been poisoned, it certainly was not inedible. Freyja was a rightfully proud cook. Something about the idea of never having planned a second interview at the workplace of her dreams had been getting to her, given her a feeling entirely too intense to unpack and an even worse idea of approaching failure to prove wrong.

”I need to land this,” Her voice came inexplicably tense, fork almost scraping against the ceramic, “I don’t know where else am I going to go if I don’t Frey.”

”Sweetheart, come on, stop thinking about it. Interview is in hours, now is breakfast. Just eat what you can,” Freyja mused, cheek half full of egg. She finished her chewing and swallowed, swaying her empty fork around in her hand as she spoke again, “If you don’t get the job, I make enough money for us to be fine while you figure out where, we’ll be okay.”

That hadn’t been the point exactly, but it made Marah feel a bit better anyways. Not enough to obey the idea of eating more than she’d already managed, though. By no one’s fault but her own, when anxious, Marah became a picky eater. With the concept of pressure itself to blame, there wasn’t much to be done but attack the matter at hand to ease her nerves.

When Freyja finally finished eating, Marah justified that half of her food was in fact going to be better than none of it, not much worse than all of it either. She had eaten, that would give her energy to get through the worst of the day.

Freyja, of course, thought a bit different, letting out a jestingly upset little “I worked hard on that” before out of earshot. She put everything still on plates or in pans into a container for leftovers, then off into the fridge. After it was all settled, she rounded a corner to their room, met with a flurry of clothes landing around the place.

”Weeks of waiting and I couldn’t take a single day to plan a new outfit,” Moving around like a storm, Marah stumbling over herself and second guessing one of the many items of clothing strewn across the floor.

Freyja tried her best but ultimately failed to contain a chuckle at the sight, “Why not that nice suit you bought?”

She had tossed aside a pair of black slacks that seemed the formal casual she was going for. “If I re-wear what I already wore they’ll all notice. Need to wear something else.”

”Surely they’re not dress-coding you for repeat suit offenses, just wear a different shirt or something,” Freyja didn’t really know what she was talking about, she’d never been to an interview that needed anything more than business casual.

Jeans got Freyja hired, but Marah was aiming for wrinkle-proof slacks. They were easily recognizable to Freyja as one of the more well-loved articles of clothing that Marah had.

”Yesterday’s pants work,” Marah huffed, bending down as she spoke.

Scooping that final decision off the floor was easier than the process of getting herself into each leg smoothly, Freyja stared openly from behind her, unable to complain about the sight of her lady’s rushed attempts to get dressed. The pair she’d chosen wasn’t even a slim fit, Marah had this problem often with most pairs of pants for rather obvious reasons, unless she got purposefully baggy fits. All of course a polite way for Freyja to muse over Marah’s aesthetic features.

There was more than the physical attributes of a nice ass, Freyja was never shallow The woman was more accurately easily captivated by Marah in every possible way, and she had been ever since they’d met.

Crudely enough, Freyja reminisced on the past quite a bit when she let gazes linger on Marah’s form. It was in school they had first encountered each other, each passing by in the others life with close calls in shared classes, never truly colliding. It wasn’t until a chance assignment and being forced to partner-up that they became friends. The arrangement gave Freyja a wonderful opportunity to get close to a girl she’d begun to admire, and Marah a chance to finally be receptive to an attempt at human connection. Times then felt simple compared to what was falling into place now, the dread of work and finances that clawed at both of their throats, a mountain of Marah’s student debt to swallow no matter how ever-growing the size of that pill be.

Freyja was tumbling around, lost in thought, watching Marah and losin track of their future as solid concept, holding onto a cemented past for peace. Doing a presentation on history had been nothing for them, they managed to get along so perfectly that they naturally kept talking to each other afterward. Freyja may have been a bit on the initiative, but Marah never turned it all away. Love blooms often in those sorts of companionships, the ones that start so simple and turn so complicated.

Adult life was not middle school, or even high school, no presenting in classes to teachers and no sliding scales of grades to calculate. This was Marah going off to present herself as an asset. Alone. Freyja was never fond of how anxious these sorts of ‘prove yourself’ things made Marah, nor could she fully stomach the strange churning idea of all those eyes glued to her girlfriend. Marah never minded the eyes as much as she worried over her performance, Freyja quite minded the eyes and always would. To call it jealousy, envy, or possessiveness would somehow underplay it and over-complicate it all the same. .

In some ways it could be understood through their differences, Marah had gotten used to presenting herself in college, for her PHD especially. Marah spent years learning and regurgitating and researching science to earn it, stuff Freyja never even dreamt of or hoped to wrap her head around. Especially since Marah’s anxiety was so clearly tied to all of it, how she was doing everything just to try and nail a job at a place that demanded an argument and advertisement of value and worth before even considering a hire.

It all looked like something Marah found fulfillment in, but Freyja would forever remain glad that she graduated senior year of high school having spoken over only two PowerPoints, the life of presenting in any manner was not for her. Not to mention, Marah’s blood, sweat, and tears weren’t for nothing in Freyja’s eyes, watching her dress up for a retry was another endearing moment where she witnessed her girlfriend’s inability to give up.

Freyja had watched and supported Marah through that academic ringer for years, all along the way doing the best she could to understand why just finding any other job wasn’t enough. At least part of it made her own soul-numbing money earning experience feel a bit more bearable in comparison. There was no presenting herself at the parts shop, no failing miserably to execute articulated points on any number of topics, just machine parts and technology tips, nothing that made enough money to pay tuition, making enough to buy groceries and pay rent though, all just dealing with customers looking for random stuff, most of them never even read her name-tag to know her name. Freyja had a sense of peace in it, really, it provided some monotonous structure.

Marah’s voice pierced through all of her girlfriend’s snowballing thoughts, a sound as darling as it was indecisive, “Do the pants look alright, do I look put-together enough?”

”You look alright to me always, I really don’t think the pants will make-or-break you nailing this,” Freyja returned, trying not to overdo it to any degree, worried she would come off too weak or too strong.

”Thank you,” Marah breathed a sigh of relief, reassured by the compliment. She found a red shirt, a button-up, and a white piece of cloth, a long-sleeved blouse. Within the seconds after Freyja gave the white one a gesture, Marah was slipping it on with grace.

While she silently mourned the lost sight of her love’s skin, Freyja started picking up the clothing caught in the wardrobe disaster. She would seek warmth of flesh later in the intimacies of touch and not mere yearning sights, after she was off work and Marah had secured the new position.

There was a further cacophony of more shuffling and bouncing around the room, Marah was hopping into socks one at a time instead of sitting down to put them on, doing the same with her flats. Before there was anything else to be said about it, any time to protest, Freyja felt a rushed kiss plant against her lips, a blur of bleach blonde hair flickering through her vision, Marah was off.

The door slammed shut, cutting off a delicate goodbye of an I love you, the impact of each sound not lost on Freyja. It sat and reverberated through her, just enough time to catch up with the fact she had somewhere to be as well. She had an hour before work, one she’d have to spend cleaning up the aftermath of that wardrobe disaster. Picking up, folding, placing back in proper spot, repeating, it was another example of that nice sort of tedium she never minded.

It was time she could spare since she never took as much time as Marah to get ready, there was not a lot to consider with a uniform, and not the longest walk to rush to. She just had to look put together, the worst she’d ever be submitted to was wearing a bit of concealer under her eyes, and with this afternoon being a rather well-prepared one, she wouldn’t have to do more than walk there. She woke early to make breakfast, get dressed, and make sure Marah was awake and ready to go. Marah had taken the car to the interview, which they had agreed on. Freyja enjoyed walking to work when she could, it just meant leaving a bit earlier than she usually thought or felt to. Most of the time it was to wrangle out more time with Marah.

A walk to work is usually a good time to think of more things, to remember more things about their past, even if it was only yesterday, but Freyja found her mind occupied with worry for Marah’s present ordeals. She kept thinking of the interview process for the position. She barely understood it.

It was a research opportunity, the reputation Marah had earned over almost a decade in grad-school. She felt that Marah geared an entire academic career towards her interests, in some parts, but most of all the woman seemed to aim for prestige. She’d pursued this singular concept so vigorously and without end, all consuming when it came to her focus, her attention, Freyja found it far from unreasonable to feel jealous, even just a little. She had always supported Marah towards this, of course, the other woman’s joy was her own pride. And an academic powerhouse of a woman was absolutely nothing to complain about, it’d always been the realization of everything that came with it, not to mention the business that followed.

Marah’s first research proposal was when Freyja finally figured out the extent of a long term complication, a burning feeling she felt when her girlfriend left for campus and came back to talk about dozens of people Freyja never met. It kept her unable to stand the idea of how Marah was going off to be propped before some group of industry vultures all over again, her perfectly adjusted professionalism already seeming unappreciated by them. Worst of all was the idea that Marah may come home upset, feeling seen-through, all over again. Freyja didn’t want to jinx anything with her thoughts, though.

She couldn’t help it when she spiraled like that, nonetheless she tried thinking of other things, more and more, staring at the concrete, her beat-up boots thudding and scraping against a surface that probably hadn’t been cleaned in decades. Nothing good to think about, nothing easy to have found either. It was easier to tune it all out when she finally reached her workplace, such a simple store that only supplied tech-parts and nothing else. It was a nice job, the place opened in the late afternoon, stayed open all night and into the break of dawn. All, of course, to gear itself toward customers scorned by other places that closed in the early afternoon. There was always enough odd faces to keep business alive, Freyja had always assumed at least, business had to have been good enough to stay open 12 solid hours every night. There were a few safety concerns here and there, a detriment to keeping the place well-staffed, but certainly nothing that harmed profits. The whole thing never seemed to be any more than any job in the grand scheme of things, Freyja never found something else close enough that paid more, nothing she qualified for at least.

She settled for reassuring herself she’d landed a good position of opening the place, since closers had to clean at 5 to get out at 6, and Freyja hated the act of cleaning itself about as much as she hated the idea of staying up until the break of dawn just to clean. What she had was perfectly broken down. Unlock door, disarm security system, clock in, change sign to open, wait for others to clock in, start shelving and rearranging until leave.

Shelving and rearranging, of course, mostly pulling things to the front of the shelf, putting misplaced items back where they should be. There was sparseness in directing customers to aisles, but Freyja had the store layout memorized anyways. It wasn’t the most difficult thing to shepherd them to the spot they’re looking for, she would just always drift back to where she had been prior to their questions, tryign to escape any further conversation.

When she didn’t feel the counting to be droning, she enjoyed doing general inventory the most, but then with eventual end to that counting there would come shelving, rearranging, shelving, rearranging.

With a long set of hours into the night before she would be off the clock, she was left to try her damnedest not to think about Marah at the interview, the circles of eyes on her, all dedicated to judging her worth and sizing her up. To deny her, then send her back in, it felt cruel in Freyja’s eyes, even if Marah seemed elated when she’d announced the redo and her need to borrow the car again.

She would not think of Marah coming home to an empty place after that interview, a house with no security cameras to document any happenings outside its doors nor within. She would, mostly genuinely, not entertain a single worry about Marah’s safety. Freyja trusted her to handle herself, a little too well really, she trusted Marah with keeping herself safe. Trust enough to never worry to keep her safe, but the fear of losing her ever present. Marah had people to impress, and Freyja was so much smaller and less full of authority than they were. She never had really truly believed it when she found herself worrying about it, the idea of some stranger dancing through their door. There was just such a massive part of her that could not help but assume the worst, with her girlfriend being rather sparse in talking about her colleagues, she only ever imagined what sort of things Marah did with them all. To her own heart and stomach churning fault, Freyja imagined scenarios that grew worse and worse and more or less full of skin.

The shift would continue to drone on for hours, Freyja somehow seeing the shape of Marah in every sweet curve and sharp edge of every piece of metal. The cold on her hands, desperate for a texture warmer and softer to hold onto. She would not think of other hands on her Marah as she tried to think of her own, she would only desperately jump over the thoughts every time they came about, she had to, or she would lose herself in that spiral. She had no desire to detail and construct her very own nerve-ridden fantasy about Marah leading someone back to their bed to secure a job, she knew Marah to be far from this type of person, but perhaps that desperate for the job itself.

At least Freyja knew Marah to be just as horribly committed to their love as she, a devotion that lingered with any distance and any time, all that brought peace. Until seeing the lady again herself, Freyja would make out the shape of girlfriend in the ink behind her eyelids, to keep her sane while she kept on shelving, rearranging, shelving, and rearranging.