In silence, you prowl the grassy strip between the far side of town and the beach.
"Can I show you something?" she asks quietly.
The Guardian pulls you a little closer to the top of the hill. It's—not a bad view of Apricot Bay, all things considered. You can see the train station to your left, where your whole day started, the old, creaky library opposite it, and a nice little patchwork of houses and little shops in between.
Even in the middle of town, the buildings are painted in a variety of pastels, ivy covers every facade, and flower boxes stand guard in front of every window. It's a strange sight for you, all the colors and plantlife. You're used to grimy bricks and concrete and misery.
"Have you been out of The City before?"
"Not especially, no."
"Are you planning to stay?"
Your first reaction is to tell her how you don't have a place to stay—but you don't really have a place in The City either. Train tickets back aren't cheap either. It took a lot to get you here in the first place.
"I guess, yeah."
"I think you'll fit in just fine, Colton. You know, a lot of people who come here are just like you."
"They are?"
She nods. "I've seen Apricot Bay go from a few settlers picking fruit in an orchard to everything you see before you. It has a strange way of attracting those who need it. ...Would you like to see the orchard?"
Your mind turns to your empty stomach. "Am I allowed to?"
"Of course!"