Packing was an event for me. Not like the fair or maybe a day at the park, no. An event like the casket being lowered into the ground. So maybe that’s a little overdramatic, but it’s just so inconvenient.

Who said I wanted to go on this stupid trip anyway.

Vio sits on my bed, spread eagled, scrolling through something or other on his phone. I ignore him, shoving shirts into my bag, watching them crinkle under my hands. I throw various pairs of socks and other necessities in, staring longingly at my phone charger. No phones allowed on this trip.

Maybe I’ll get murdered. I chuckle, zipping up my bag as I hear a knock on the door.

Linda gives a flirtatious hello, greeted by a familiarly husky voice. I go out to see him, the man I’d be spending time with for the next week, Charles was it? I was used to calling him Mr.Bernard at this point.

He looked different out of uniform, less serious, more… like a guy you’d run into at a smoke shop or something. Khakis covered in pineapples, and a hawaiian shirt with the top button undone. Was he always that hairy? When did he grow out his hair? It couldn’t have been more than three or four days since I had last seen him, yet he looked eerily different.

My mind flashes to the hairy homeless man I had seen just days ago, how the thickness of their fur-like legs were similar. I was just imagining things, really. Trying to find fantasy in an otherwise boring trip.

He waves at me smiling. His teeth were white, sharp, from what I could see at least, like he took care of himself. I wince at myself. I was starting to sound like some fanfiction written by a twelve year old.

Vio comes behind me, his bag in one hand, mine slung over his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, he’s usually a pretty silent guy. Linda kisses my cheek, doing the same to Vio as we walk out the door. We were only going to be gone for a couple of days, really. She looked worked up, tears in her eyes and wringing her hands around her pale wrists. Honestly, woman.

The car ride went like usual, nothing interesting to really say of it. Vio and I watched conspiracies on a shared laptop, Charles attempting to strike conversation with us from time to time. I ask him where we are going, and he says Elysia.

“I’ve never heard of it.” Vio pipes up, shockingly. Charles smiles at him through the rear-view mirror, an odd glint in his eyes.

“It’s an island, just off this way and that,” He says, but I was pretty sure ‘this’ and ‘that’ weren’t very valid directions to go off of.