Not carter house
March 27, 3030

In the bottle, a jumble of liquid wind. Raven shook the contents of the two-litter jug.

Elevate delight, she said. She grinned. He stumbled across the room. Reached for the jug and unscrewed the cap from its hole, the entrance to a life of sunshine or an evening of sunshine, at least, a few hours of unmemorable existence followed by fresh morning nausea, throbbings of dry, less articulated ventricles, the aches, the aches, the aches.

“What is elevating here?” he said, spinning to the door. “What lifts us up when we’re trapped here for days, for weeks, maybe for months. What delight?” He was slurring a little. It would get worse later tonight unless they went to bed early.

But a knock had happened. A knock on the door. He heard the knock, sensed it perhaps, milliseconds before a rolled up ball of fingers tappity tapped on the wood. “Where is the power? It evades me like a sly mink evades the knife of the furrier.”

He lurched toward the door.

“Economic relief!”

His hand paused on the doorknob. Time froze.

A sliver of light jutted through the gap between frame and door. Light glimmered. Light glistened. Raven tipped her hair into the light. She liked how a halo warmed her head, her hair, the color of black beans. Black beans spiced with chilies and cumin.

Raven felt hungry. Raven wanted a cheese plate. Raven wanted a spicy salad with arugula and mustard blossoms. Smoothed with tangy goat cheese. Dressed with crushed basil and oil. For color, for frolic and for intrigue, this salad would possess the leaves of a common weed, a yard nuisance.

For fun. She needed this.

She tipped the bottle to her mouth, taking the wind straight, the temperature of the room. She felt the warm front move south. She shook the contents of the two-litter jug.

“Elevate?” She asked this as a question now. “Delight?”

He shrugged, opened the door.

The face-masked florist stood back from the door, an appropriate six feet. He held out a bright bouquet in his gloved hand. His voice was only partially muffled from behind his mask.

“Did someone order dandelions?”