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internal alarm clock went off at five thirty. She sat up and rubbed her eyes as her brain shouted a litany of orders. Get up, make coffee, shower, check your email… Birds chirped outside reminding her that she wasn’t in Atlanta anymore, and there was no need to rush through morning chores. Aside from grocery shopping, there was no need to do anything. She sank back down, unsure of how she felt about that. There were times she wished that she could just spend the morning leisurely sipping a cup of coffee and watch the sun come up. But there was never any time, money had to be made. And now she had plenty of time that she couldn’t relax and enjoy because her future seemed so uncertain.
    She got up with a groan. She wouldn’t be enjoying a cup of coffee because she didn’t have any. Grocery shopping was the first order of business, then…who knew. Maybe she’d get around to unpacking her things, which would take all of thirty minutes.

    ~~~

    The seats of the Jeep were wet with morning dew and stuck to the pair of running shorts that Morgan had thrown on after her shower. Dust and leaves covered the dash from the work done in her yard the day before. Morgan decided that cleaning it would be her next project. “Just keep moving and doing,” she said aloud. She was determined to do anything to keep her mind off of the last few months when her life went to hell in a handbasket.
    Morgan breathed in deeply, catching the hint of creosote from the docks and piers jutting into the water. It brought back memories of when her father used to take her and Brad fishing at False River. Morgan allowed herself a second to visualize her dad with the bottoms of his jeans rolled up wading into the muddy waters to catch a turtle for Brad. She blinked and shook her head when the images of his last hours began to filter into her mind.
    Instead of turning left onto Main Street, Morgan crossed over, and the road went from Lake Shore Drive to Blackwater Road. There were a few offices on either side, then White Oak Grocery came into view. Morgan wheeled into the lot that was virtually empty and parked. Two cashiers were chatting at one of the registers and waved as Morgan picked out a cart and headed for the produce. The smell of lavender mixed with something else hit her as she passed a woman looking at the fruit.
    Morgan tossed a bag of celery into her cart and was about to pick up a cucumber when the woman whispered, “You’re better off growing your own.”
    “I just moved here,” Morgan said with a shrug, taking in the woman’s odd apparel. The white gauzy dress looked more like a nightgown and was almost as sheer. Morgan looked down when she noticed the woman’s nipples poking at the material. Her feet were in a pair of sandals that looked handmade by a child.
    “I know,” the woman said in an airy tone. She picked up an apple and scratched at the skin with her fingernail, shaking her head. “So many pesticides. Chemicals to make the breasts of a chicken larger, hormones to make the cow grow faster, and where does it all go? To us.” She dropped the apple back into the bin. “Rabbits, rabbits, rabbits, they ate everything.” The woman reached out and grabbed Morgan’s arm hard enough to nearly make her lose her balance. “When you plant your garden, surround it with a fence and bury the bottom at least a foot into the earth.” Her voice rose with every mournful word. “Learn from my mistakes, so you won’t be forced to eat the chemical-laced filth you find here.”
    “You don’t have to shop here, Clarice,” someone called out from another aisle.
    “It’s a conspiracy,” Clarice whispered as she released her hold on Morgan. “My breasts used to be so beautiful and now—”
    “Whoa! Wait a minute,” Morgan cried out when Clarice began opening her dress.
    “Don’t show your boobs in the store, Clarice,” the same voice called out a little louder. “You’re gonna make me call the cops on you