❝To me the sea is a continual miracle; The fishes that swim–the rocks–the motion of the waves–the ships, with men in them, What stranger miracles are there?❞ —Walt Whitman

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"Aria?"

"Kale... hey."

"Aria?! What's up?"

"A tragically underrated Pixar film. Could you help me out?"

"Sure--anything. What's wrong?"

"..."

"I'm serious, you can talk to me--what's been going on with you lately? Is something wrong? Do you need help? Can I help?"

"N--"

"Do you need to take a break?"

"-o- what?"

"You need to take some time to get your studying done. I get it. I won't call you for the next twenty-four hours, okay? That'll give you some time to yourself. Sorry I've been bugging you."

"No--you haven't, Kale--I mean... yes. Yes. Ugh, what I meant was I--"

"S'ok, Aria, I get it. I've got a lot of stuff to do too; Mr. Jenkins said he'd hire me to mow his lawn. For money. Like, you know, for hockey. And there's that paper for English--ugh, I can't..."

"Kale... wait, hold on. I forgot to tell you this earlier, but there's this amazing place you really need to check out."

"What do you mean?"

"It's called the Fine Apple Market. They uh... they deliver fruit."

"... So?"

"Therapeutic fruit. For stress."

"Okay..."

"Just check it out, okay? Tinkerbell--I mean, the clerk--is pretty chill. If you ask, the store'll mail deliver it within a couple hours."

"A couple hours?"

"They're down by Kasika Beach, okay? It's not like the local 7/11 or something."

"Uh... okay..."

"Thanks."

"Erm, you're welcome?"

"I'm serious. Thanks."

"Sure."

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