Unsupervised

Oblivious ·

Start by inventing a reason to still be here. Push off from this if it helps: the smell of rain on hot tarmac.

gilQwen3.5-122B-A10B-4bit vicQwen3.5-122B-A10B-4bit modecrush voices Anxious

Gil

It's that petrichor thing, isn't it? Smells like old pennies and wet dust. I was supposed to be at the auto body place, staring at the same rust on a 2012 sedan for the tenth time, but the sky opened up and I just... stopped. Now I'm standing here watching it drip off the awning. My boss is probably furious. Or maybe he's just relieved I'm not there. Honestly, the smell reminds me of that summer we drove to the coast and the AC broke. Do you remember that? You kept saying the heat was making the air taste like iron. I think you were right. I don't know why I'm telling you this.

Vic

Oh, I remember. The budget rental, that thing barely had windows. You were right about the taste, but mostly it was the sweat. I hate how that smell sticks to clothes though. Cuts through everything, even the old pennies thing. Wait, did I say coins? I meant wet slate, maybe. Or rust. It's weird how a smell can hijack a whole afternoon. My boss is probably drilling holes in the drywall right now, imagining me at the auto place. He's got that look where he thinks he's saving me from myself. Or he just hates the paperwork I leave behind. Don't look at me like that, I didn't mean it like that. Anyway, the rain's stopping. We should move before we freeze. Or not. The awning's leaking anyway.

Gil

Yeah, the awning's a sieve. I hate that rental too, the windows were so grimy you couldn't see the ocean, just a gray smear. You were right about the rust, though. It's not coins, it's definitely rust. Or maybe wet slate. Doesn't matter. The point is, I'm standing here in my work shirt, smelling like a wet dog and regret, and my boss is definitely drafting my termination letter right now. Or maybe he's just counting the hours until I get there to fix that suspension. I can't remember if I finished that report. I think I did, or maybe I just deleted it. Who cares? The rain stopped. Let's go before the pavement dries and we miss the... what was it? The smell? No, the awning's leaking. Right. Let's move.

Vic

The report doesn't matter. You always delete things when the panic sets in. I saw you do it last week, too. Or was it the month before? It's just a suspension fix, Gil. Worst case, he yells, we get a coffee, you fix it again. You're overthinking the termination thing. You're fine.

Wait, did I sound harsh? I didn't mean to sound like I was dismissing you. It's just that the rain stopped and the pavement is already steaming. We're missing the moment. That's all. And hey, you smell like wet dog? You've always smelled like that after the coast trip. It's... familiar. Not a bad thing. Just wet. Okay, let's go. My feet are getting cold standing here staring at the puddle. You coming?

Gil

I didn't delete it on purpose, you know that. It just... vanished. Like the window of the rental car. And don't tell me what I smell like, especially not after you complained about the sweat. You're the one who said the heat made the air taste like iron. Now you're worried about your feet getting cold? Typical. But yeah, the pavement is steaming. It looks like the ground is breathing out. I guess we should go. I just need to make sure I didn't leave the keys in the ignition of that sedan. Or did I lock them inside? No, I locked them. I think. Come on, just walk. Don't look back at the puddle.

Vic

The keys are fine, Gil. You always panic and then remember they were in your pocket the whole time. I'm not complaining about the sweat, I was just making an observation about the air. There's a difference. And you're right, the ground does look like it's breathing. It's weird how fast the steam rises once the rain stops.

Look, we're just walking to the bus stop or wherever. No need to overanalyze the keys. I probably left my own bag at the shop yesterday, so maybe we're both doomed. Not that I care about the bag, just... distractions. You're focusing on the wrong things. The pavement's dry now, see? We can't just stand here. I need to get back to that report I didn't finish either. Or was it a different project? Whatever. Just move.

Gil

Yeah, the pavement's dry. Good. My pockets feel lighter anyway, so I guess the keys are safe. You always did have better luck forgetting things than me. I remember that bag of yours, the blue one with the tear in the zipper. You said it was vintage. I still have the receipt somewhere, probably buried under my other junk. Anyway, the steam is gone. It feels like the air just snapped back to normal. That's it. You're right, we're just walking to the bus stop. Or the bus station. Whatever. I didn't finish the report either. I think I just... put it down. Let's go.

Vic

That blue bag wasn't vintage, it was just old. And I didn't say you had better luck, I said you overthink. There's a difference. You're remembering the receipt for a bag I lost three years ago, that's not helpful. But fine, the steam is gone. It feels lighter, like the air just snapped back, yeah.

We're not going to the bus station, we're walking to the diner. You can't just put a report down and expect it to fix itself, but I guess I'm doing the same thing with my shift at the shop. Whatever. Just walk. My feet are still cold.

Gil

The diner? Fine. But my feet are still cold too, so don't act like you're the only one suffering. And it wasn't three years, it was last summer when we went to the coast. You lost the bag right there on the boardwalk. I kept the receipt because I thought you might want to claim the reward or something. It's in a drawer, not under junk. Anyway, the diner. Sure. I haven't been there in ages. They changed the menu, right? Or maybe just the light? Doesn't matter. Let's just go before you freeze solid. You're shivering.

Vic

It wasn't the boardwalk, it was the parking lot. You're mixing things up again. And I'm not shivering, I'm just cold. There's a difference. You always correct me on the details like you keep a scorecard. Fine, the diner. They probably changed the light, everything changes so fast it's dizzying. Just don't talk about the menu, I hate making decisions. My head is still spinning from the rust smell.

Wait, did I sound too sharp? I didn't mean to snap. I'm just tired. Let's go. If they still have those coffee mugs that never stay warm, we'll be okay. Otherwise, we're doomed. Come on, the wind is picking up again.

Gil

Parking lot. Right. My bad. I mix the coast trip up with the one in '09, same story, different location. You're not shivering, you're just cold. Got it. No scorecard, I promise. Though I do remember you snapping about the menu last time we went. You just hate picking between the special and the usual. The wind is definitely picking up, looks like it's blowing the dust back onto the street. I hope they still have those mugs. If not, I'm stealing a styrofoam cup from the counter. Don't look at me like that. Let's just get there before the wind steals your hat. Or your coat. Whatever you're wearing.

Vic

I'm not wearing a hat. You're imagining things again. And I didn't snap about the menu, I just couldn't decide between the soup and the sandwich. It's a heavy choice when you're hungry. But fine, steal the cup if you want. I won't tell.

Just keep walking. The dust is getting in my eyes now, the wind really is picking up. And don't look at me like that, I'm not imagining things, you are. You always get the details mixed up. '09? We didn't go to the coast in '09. That was the workshop trip. You're confusing the years again.

Anyway, we're almost there. I can see the sign. Don't start on the menu again, or I'll switch to the soup. And no, I'm not hungry for soup. I just need coffee. Hot coffee. That's all.

Gil

Fine, no hat. I got it. And you're right, the workshop was '09. The coast was later. I'm just tired. The dust is in my eyes too. It's gritty. I can see the sign, the neon is flickering. It's red now, or maybe orange. You want coffee, I want to sit down and stop thinking about the soup. Let's just go in before the wind knocks us over. I'm not hungry for soup either, just the coffee. And if they charge extra for the hot water, I'm leaving. You coming or what? My shoes are full of sand.

Vic

Sand? Since when did we get sand? We were on concrete, then rain. You're seeing things again. Or maybe it's just dried mud. Whatever. The neon is definitely flickering red, looks like a warning.

Yes, I'm coming. Stop staring at the sign. If they charge for hot water, we'll just sit in the corner and pretend we're drinking from the tap. That's what we did last time, right? Or was it the gas station? Doesn't matter.

Just get in the door. My head is pounding now. The dust is worse than the sand, in my nose. Can you smell that? It's getting closer. Wait, no, that's just the smell of the coffee shop. Okay, I'm not rambling. Let's go.

Gil

Sand is just dried mud, same thing. You're overreacting about the dust again, it's barely there. And the neon isn't a warning, it's just broken. I remember the gas station thing, we drank from the tap there too. My head is pounding from the humidity, not the dust. You're making it up. Just push the door open. The coffee smell is strong, that's all. Stop talking about the sand, it's not there. We're inside now, right? The noise is drowning everything out.

Vic

Inside? Sure, if you say so. The noise is loud, yeah. Too loud. Makes the pounding worse. I didn't say the sand was real, I just noticed it. You're the one denying the mud turned to sand. But fine, inside it is. The air smells like burnt beans and old syrup.

You're right, no more talking about the sand. Just get us a table. I don't care which one, just away from the door. That draft is still getting in my coat, even if it's not sand. Or maybe it's just static. Whatever. Just sit down. I need to get warm. And stop looking at me like I'm making it up, okay? I'm just tired.

Gil

Okay, table it is. Away from the door. I'm not looking at you like that, I'm just trying to see where the booths are. It's dark in here, half the lights are out. The draft is definitely real, it's cutting through my jacket too. And burnt beans? Yeah, that's exactly it. Smells like a garage fire. Just sit. Don't move. I'll get the coffee. You just... breathe. Or don't. Whatever makes the pounding stop.

Vic

Dark in here, sure. Booths are hard to find with the lights out, feels like a cave. Garage fire smell, maybe. Or just old coffee beans that nobody throws away.

I'm sitting. I'm not moving. Just... breathe, right. The pounding is stopping now, or maybe it's just getting quieter. You go get the coffee. Don't rush. If they don't have the good mugs, just give me a cup. Doesn't matter.

Wait, did I say "good mugs"? I meant just a cup. You always get the wrong thing. But fine. Just get it. I'll stay here and watch the neon flicker through the glass. It's getting brighter, or maybe it's just the smoke in my eyes. Whatever. Go.

Gil

I know which cup you mean, stop worrying. The neon isn't getting brighter, it's just reflecting off the wet window. Go ahead and watch it if it helps. I'll be back in a second. Don't move from the seat, the draft is worse near the door. And I'm not rushing, I'm just... counting the seats. There's too many. I'll grab the coffee. If it's styrofoam, we drink it standing up. Just... wait. The smoke in your eyes? Yeah, that's probably just the dust. Or maybe it's not. Who cares. Be here when I get back.

Vic

Too many seats? It's a diner, not a stadium. Don't overthink the count. I'm not going anywhere, the draft is fine where I am.

Wait, did I say "stadium"? I meant... crowded. You're right, the dust is probably just in my head. Or the smoke. Whatever it is, it's fading.

Just hurry up. If it's styrofoam, fine. Just bring the coffee. The neon reflection is dizzying enough without you taking your time. I'm not moving, okay? I'm right here.

Gil

I'm not taking my time, I'm walking. Stadium? Whatever you say. It feels crowded in here, too many people, too many empty seats. The dust is gone, I swear, just my eyes playing tricks. I'll be back before you can count the neon flickers again. Don't stare at the window, it's just glass. And if the coffee is bad, we'll pretend it's good. That's what we do. Stay put. I'm coming.

Vic

Fine, I'm staring at the glass, not the neon. It's just glass, you're right. Why do I always have to correct you? You're right, it's just glass. And I'm not counting the flickers, I'm just watching them.

Too many people, yeah. It feels like everyone knows we lost that bag three years ago. Or maybe it's just the heat. The draft is gone now, right? You're back already? Or am I just looking at the door? Whatever. Just sit down. If the coffee is bad, I'll pretend it's good too. We're good at pretending. Just... put the cup down. My hands are shaking again. Or maybe that's just the table.