Selena plucked a neatly folded sheet from the stack and tapped it with her thumb.

"Sometimes circumstances make it impossible to visit those you want to see," the girl replied sadly, "but a letter—that’s already an action! It’s a connective thread that keeps relationships from fraying."

"Seems like unnecessary effort to me," I disagreed.

"What’s worse in your book: unnecessary effort or complete inaction?" the kid chimed in, addressing Selena.

She twirled the paper in her hand, kissed it, and tucked it back into the stack, carefully tightening the shoelace around them.

"Complete inaction," she finally answered. "When someone does a lot—even if it’s misdirected—you see the effort. It shows they care enough to try, however they can. Even if it’s just a scribbled note about where they are. But in the territory of inaction? Absolutely nothing grows. Just scorched earth and emptiness taking root. Nothing survives in that environment—only indifferent stillness."

"Sounds like our neighborhood," the kid remarked.

Selena smiled at Oscar and moved toward the back of the van, where a curtain divided the space. Behind it lay a deflated two-person air mattress—the kind used for floating on water.

"If you inflate it yourselves, you’re welcome to sleep here tonight," she said, pulling a portable pump from a small corner cabinet.

Handing it to me, she kicked off her boots and stretched blissfully onto her tiptoes.

"Take off your shoes," she advised. "The earth is cool and soothing to tired feet in the evening."

"I'm good, thanks," Oscar shook his head, tapping his rubber boots against the floor.

"Is there a repair shop around here?" I asked, not expecting a positive answer.

"Here, every resident has their own 'repair shop'—usually a garage," Selena crossed her arms, but upon seeing my grim expression, added: "There’s a little private workshop further down past the cliffs. Run by an old mechanic and his son. They can fix your bike. I always stop by when my trailer needs patching up."

"That’d be perfect—otherwise, I’ll have to pay Kurt a visit for some… explanations," I replied irritably. "And maybe patch up his jealous face while I’m at it."

Spending the night in a trailer in the middle of nowhere was its own special kind of ordeal. The van had baked under the sun all day, with not a single tree or body of water in sight. The silence, devoid of any city rhythms, was occasionally broken by the chirping of insects that sounded almost like cicadas.

Selena must’ve picked up their habit—emerging once every seventeen years just to make noise.

Oscar, true to form, had fallen asleep instantly, only occasionally mumbling something incoherent in the depths of his slumber.

Selena, like me, wasn’t sleeping. We sat under the trailer’s awning on foldable camping chairs, a bronze kerosene lamp from what looked like the 12th century resting on the ground between us.

"Why are you alone?" I asked, watching as she fiddled with the beaded bracelet on her wrist.

"Who says I’m alone?" Selena sounded surprised. "You saw how many letters I have."

"You know what I mean. Why isn’t anyone traveling with you?"

"I never really thought about it."

She stood up, restless, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

"Then why are you with Oscar?"

"Avoiding the question, Selena," I smirked.

"Fine, you win," she conceded. "I’m not… great with people. If I play hide-and-seek with myself, how can I ever really open up to others? Trust them?"

"You should try. You did let us stay the night, and you were the one who spoke to me first," I reminded her.