Jonah looked out the window, silent. Kavya didn’t speak right away either, her hands tightening on the wheel.
“That sounds horrible,” Kavya finally said.
“Therapy?” Ruby tried to joke, but the words fell flat in the heavy air.
“No, not therapy. The idea of not feeling human. I think a lot of people have moments where they don’t feel like themselves. But—” she hesitated, glancing at Ruby in the rearview mirror, “—but to actually not be yourself? To feel something inside you controlling you like that? I’m sorry, Ruby. That… really sucks.”
Jonah’s gaze flickered toward Ruby, a sad smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t say anything, just offered her a silent, understanding look. Ruby wasn’t used to that—people seeing her as more than a thermophile, no more than a tool to be used.
The weight of her story hung in the air for a few more beats, the road stretching endlessly ahead of them. Then, suddenly, Kavya slapped her hands on the steering wheel, making both Jonah and Ruby jump.
“You know what kind of therapy always makes me feel better?” Kavya grinned, flicking the blinker and shifting lanes as they veered toward the next exit.
Ruby blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy. “What?”
“Retail therapy,” Kavya declared with a dramatic flourish.
THE MALL WASa living, breathing relic of a bygone era, much like Ruby herself. Wandering the maze of stores didn’t stir nostalgia in her; malls hadn't reached their peak popularity until after she had become a thermophile, and by then, she'd been far removed from the world. Still, she could see the appeal.
The polished tiles gleamed under the soft glow of fluorescent lights, catching the late afternoon sunlight spilling in through the vast skylights above. Faint echoes of distant footsteps and laughter carried through the air, mingling with the murmur of background music—old, familiar pop songs that tugged at long forgotten memories.
The scent of freshly baked pretzels, warm cinnamon, and the unmistakable sweetness of a food court hit the senses all at once, creating a comforting aroma that whispered of simpler times. Kiosks lined the walkways, their brightly colored displays beckoning with the promise of novelty—phone cases, handmade jewelry, trinkets you didn’t know you needed until they caught your eye. The hum of commerce was steady yet soothing, like the pulse of the place itself.
Ruby typically shopped second hand. It was her small way of trying to balance the scales, a quiet attempt to mitigate the impact her eternity might have on the Earth. Still, she hadn’t had the heart to mention it to Kavya, allowing herself to be swept along as her coworker (friend, maybe? She wasn't really sure where they stood) pulled her from store to store, handing over her TCA-sponsored black card for each purchase.
They wandered into a cosmetic store, the air thick with the scent of perfume and freshly opened makeup palettes. Jonah held up a deep purple lipstick and wiggled his eyebrows at Ruby. She offered him a faint smile but drifted toward the skincare aisle. She stared at the rows of serums, creams, and masks, a strange sadness creeping in.
In her day, it was all cold cream and sleeping in hair rollers. Some things hadn’t changed. Women still wrapped their hair in socks and pink felt tubes, slathered on creams and salves before bed, and prayed to wake up looking fresh. Ruby remembered the explosion of anti-aging products when she was around twenty—back when she still thought aging was inevitable. She had been so young, still figuring out the world, unsure of her place in it. Now, teenagers online slathered on the same products, desperate to stave off the natural changes in their skin before they had even started.
It made her sad. She remembered being terrified of aging, thinking twenty-five was old, then pushing that fear to thirty, until she finally grew into herself. The irony gnawed at her—so many people wanting to undo the signs of aging, while she would have given anything to experience it. To grow old, especially alongside friends and family, was a privilege most people took for granted. If a few wrinkles or silver strands were the cost, who was she to complain?
Jesus, she needed to kick down another fence or something. One day on her mandatory break and she was already waxing poetics about aging and complaining about not feeling human enough. She needed to get a grip.
By the time Kavya’s energy finally waned, they had accumulated nine bags—each evenly distributed among Kavya, Ruby, and even Jonah. He had been a surprisingly good sport, offering compliments while Ruby and Kavya tried on clothes, even volunteering to grab drinks whenever they needed a break.Ruby had politely declined, a silent reminder to him about why she didn’t eat or drink in public. Jonah had winced at his mistake before leaving the girls chatting in the food court.
"Hi, Beautiful." The man reeked of alcohol, his shirt half-buttoned, eyes glazed. He was speaking to Kavya, completely ignoring Ruby as he leaned in, placing his hands on their table. "What would it take for me to get your number?"
Kavya didn’t miss a beat. She flashed her left hand, the ring glinting under the food court lights. "I'm married," she said, turning back to Ruby.
Undeterred, he grabbed her hand, his grip tightening around her fingers. "I don't see why that’s a problem. I don’t see him around."
“She," Kavya corrected, yanking her hand back, "could kick your ass."
The man’s smirk deepened, ignoring her words. In one swift motion, he snatched her wrist and jerked her to her feet. Kavya winced in pain, struggling as he tried to drag her away.
“Walk away.” Ruby stood, shoving herself between them. She was taller than him, even in her flats.
He glanced at her dismissively, puffing up his chest. He went to raise his hand, aiming a slap at Ruby, but before he could land the blow, Jonah appeared, catching his wrist mid-air. In one smooth move, Jonah twisted the guy’s arm behind his back, forcing him to the ground with a grunt.
“Oh look," the guy sneered from the floor, "the bitches’ handler is here."
Ruby tapped Jonah on the shoulder, her expression calm but deadly. She gestured for him to step aside with a tilt of her head. Jonah, eyes locked on the man, reluctantly let go, stepping back.
Ruby didn’t hesitate. She pressed her heel into the man's crotch, applying enough pressure to make him yelp. His bodytwisted, trying to escape, but she pushed harder, her weight pinning him down.
“Do you know what a testicular torsion is?” she asked, her voice conversational as if they were discussing the weather.
The man slapped desperately at her ankle, his face pale.
