Day 1

Here we are, day one. Today's prompts are from: https://52prompts.com/random-generator-masterlist/.

Here's our character:

And here's our scenario:

Here we go:

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The old red-brick-and-white-siding of Dansville rolled into view, and Brenna sighed to herself. In some ways, it was good to be back. Not in most ways, but at least a few. She had grown up along the two-mile stretch of nothing that made up downtown Dansville, taking turns steering and riding in shopping carts as they ran down the two-lane highway. Now she rolled past familiar sights, made new through the eyes of adulthood. Down there was the school where she had started her first puberty. A little further, the video store where she and Max had spent as much money on weed as on N64 rentals. Further still, the one good restaurant in town, where you could get a fried pork chop, mashed potatoes, and a lemonade for $5.60.

The school was still in operation, she saw. A whole new generation of little buffoons running around, consuming each other's innocence on a daily basis. The video store was long gone, of course, the outline of a completely different shape discoloring the wall above the storefront. Video Maximum had died, and some other business had moved in here and died as well.

The restaurant, Dave's Flame Grill, seemed to be going strong. Brenna doubted the pork chop meal was still five bucks, but she thought she might stop in on her way back out of town. Her mouth watered at the memory of juicy meat, fluffy potatoes, and savory greens. Definitely stopping on the way out of town.

As she turned down Rose street (right before Chrysanthemum street and just after Poppy lane, god these street names were cloying), she reached for the volume knob on her little Honda's radio. Blaring guitars, thundering drums, and the guttural screams of Byron Davis faded, leaving the sound of wind through her open window, tires on asphalt, and a fun new clicking noise that hadn't been coming from her engine when she'd left home that morning.

She leaned left, sticking an ear out the window, listening to the rumble of her engine. Yeah, it was definitely saying things it shouldn't be saying. "Fuck," she muttered, easing into her next turn and starting to look for parking. She was a block away from Max's, that was close enough.

The walk to 402 Portia Lane was short, and made comfortable by a light breeze and plenty of shade from the trees that dotted either side of the pitted sidewalk. The apartment building she came to was a wide, squat collection of red bricks and blue door, built on a wider, flatter patch of grass. She mounted the steps up to the door, went inside, found apartment E, and texted here to the occupant.

She was about to knock when the door swung open and max was there, tanktop, sweatpants, beanie, and big grin all coming toward Brenna at once. His hug was accompanied by her name, effortlessly spoken in glad friendship, and it made her grin and squeeze back even harder.

"Hey, Max, good to see you."

"Good to see you," Max said, pulling back and holding Brenna by the shoulders as he looked her over. "Damn, you're looking hot. Is that okay to say? I dunno, you gotta tell me if I do something weird."

She gave him a curtsy, pulling at the sides of her black-and-white checked skirt and laughing. "Nah, it's cool, I know I'm hot now."

"Come on in," said Max, stepping to the side of the doorframe and beckoning her into the small 1-bedroom. Beyond she could see a comfy-looking couch set up against a wall, a passthrough to the kitchen above it. Short gray carpet coated the floors, bookshelves lined the walls, and a large fern took up one corner. It looked homey and comfortable, and a far cry cleaner than Max's last place.

"I like what she's done with the place," said Brenna, pulling her shoes off and stepping in to investigate the knicknacks on the nearest shelf. She gave her friend a sidelong smile, making sure he knew she was mocking him, and making equally sure he knew she was being gentle about it.

"Yeah, Amanda's cleaned me up a bit. Hell of a stoner, though, you'd like her. She's at work right now. Here, your stuff is in the bedroom," Max said, heading toward the hall behind the kitchen.

"Oh, hey— I might need a ride to the auto parts shop," Brenna said. Max stopped just beyond the kitchen and turned back.

"Shit, what happened?"

"Dunno yet. Figured I'd let the engine cool a while before I went poking around in it."

"You don't wanna just send it to A-1?"

A-1 was the town's auto shop. The town's only auto shop. Brenna had spent countless hours there as a kid, bashing superhero dolls together at the front desk and learning the names of all the tools on the greasy shop floor. It was a place that held a lot of meaning for her, and a lot of complicated feelings surrounded it. Many of them, fairly recent.

Max saw her hesitation. "Yeah, of course, no worries. I'll give you a ride out to Salvo."

"Thanks, Max."

"No worries."

"It's probably nothing, and about half the somethings it could be, I can fix with the shit in the trunk anyway."

Max nodded. "Do they even know?"

Brenna looked down and saw she had picked up a little plastic Garfield, the orange talisman now squeezed in her palm. She put it back on the shelf and sighed. "You know what my dad would say."

"Yeah," said Max, his tone solemn. "Yeah, your dad and your brother would both be shitheads about it."

"I can't just cut them out completely, can I?"

Max shrugged. "I dunno, Bren. I dunno."

They stood, silent and uncomfortable for a long beat. Brenna couldn't help but think through all the possible ways her family could react to her being trans, and none of them were pleasant. Hell, maybe she should go to A-1, just rock up there in front of the whole crew, let her family find out in public and embarrass themselves.

Max broke the moment. "Anyway, come on. Amanda collected a bunch of old clothes for you to pick through. She'll be home in a couple hours if you wanna smoke and play Smash or something until then."

Brenna smiled. Not everything in Dansville was awful. She'd moved away for very good reasons, but that afternoon, she remembered a few reasons to come back once in a while, too. And the pork chop she ate that evening on her way out of town was just as juicy and delicious as she remembered.

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Okay, first post done! Remember when I said I'd do like 500-1,000 words? That was almost 1,100. I'll see about aiming for more brevity tomorrow.

Bye!