The Purpose of Love, Part 1

Blake

I glance out the window, taking a deep breath. The cold is seeping through my jacket, making me shiver.

I should’ve grabbed the heavier one. I rub my hands together, blowing warm air into them.

The man across from me stands as the train pulls into a new station. The train is nearly empty, with only a handful of passengers.

I count them—eight in total.

To my right, a woman is knitting a sweater. A young girl sprawls across the seats in front of me, sleeping soundly.

I should be sleeping too, but the cold is keeping me awake. I hadn’t anticipated it being this chilly.

Deciding to grab a coffee, I head towards the train’s pantry. I’m relieved to see they have a seating area.

As I walk past the seats, I spot a book on the floor. I pick it up, looking around for its owner, and find her asleep, clutching a pen.

Her face is hidden by a curtain of curls. The seats around her are empty, but her luggage is scattered everywhere.

I place the book on the seat next to her and continue on my way.

***

The bell above the door jingles as I step into the store. I look around for a salesperson to help me find a warmer jacket.

The store is warm and inviting. I cross my arms over my chest and head towards a rack of puffy jackets.

“Hei, hvordan har du det?” An elderly woman approaches me, holding a pair of woolen gloves.

Seeing my confused expression, she chuckles. “English?” she asks, her accent thick with Norwegian.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Oh... Oh... Tourist?” I shake my head. “No, Ma’am. I’ll be staying here for a while.”

She looks puzzled. “Here?”

I nod. I’m not usually one for small talk, but traveling has forced me to engage in conversations with locals and shopkeepers.

It’s necessary for survival.

“Where are you staying?” She sets her basket down on the counter. “Yellow cottage.”

Recognition flashes across her face. “Yellow cottage? Sandy’s yellow cottage?”

I have no idea who Sandy is, but there was only one yellow cottage listed on booking.com. I nod in response.

“Sandy is a good lad. He takes care of the properties well, though it’s been a while since anyone stayed there.”

I’m too cold to continue the conversation. “Hmm... Ma’am, I need a good quality jacket for this weather. Can you recommend one?”

Her eyes immediately drop to the jacket I’m currently wearing.

“Sweet Jesus! I’m sorry, hon. Come here... You must be freezing.” She leads me towards another section of the store.

The bell rings again, signaling another customer’s arrival. “We have our best jackets over here. I’m not sure if I can find one in your size.”

She gestures towards me. “You’re quite tall.”

A gasp followed by laughter echoes through the store. I glance over to see a woman in a pink jacket heading in the opposite direction.

The woman’s voice fills the quiet store. “But I’m sure Jerry can help you.” The elderly woman disappears into a back room.

I groan, pulling my scarf up over my head.

The woman in the pink jacket giggles, but I don’t bother looking at her. The elderly woman returns, followed by a grumpy-looking man.

“Jerry, he’s English and tall. Show him the jackets in the fishing room.”

Jerry sizes me up before motioning for me to follow him. The elderly woman heads towards the woman in the pink jacket.

I trail after Jerry, waiting as he fumbles with a set of keys.

He mutters under his breath as he tries one key after another. It takes him a good five minutes to find the right one.

Meanwhile, the elderly woman is chatting animatedly with the woman in the pink jacket.

“Check out these jackets,” Jerry points towards a corner. I wander around the room, taking in the various fishing hooks, nets, and gear.

“We only have four jackets left. Pick one; we’re about to close.” Jerry’s tone is brusque. I ignore him and head towards the jackets.

Without much thought, I grab the grey one. The other options are yellow and pink. I hold up the jacket for Jerry’s approval, and he grunts in response.

I leave him in the room and head towards the counter.

The woman in the pink jacket is at the checkout.

Before I can reach the counter, she grabs her bag and leaves. The elderly woman looks up at me. “Did you find a jacket?”

“Yes.” I place the jacket on the counter. She scans the tag. “How are you getting to the Yellow Cottage?”

I pull out my wallet and place some cash on the counter. “Walking.”

“It’s quite a distance from here, and it’s snowing.” She glances out the window. “Wait, Aria drove here. She can give you a ride. Come...”

She tugs on my sleeve, leading me outside. I assume Aria is the woman in the pink jacket. We step outside into the snow.

I left my luggage by the store entrance.

“Aria! Aria!” Her calls are in vain. The woman in the pink jacket is already gone. “It’s okay, ma’am. I can manage.”

She looks at me sadly. “Alright, dear. Call me Asta. My daughter Ada runs the supermarket in town. It’s about half a mile from the Yellow Cottage.”

“Thank you.” I pull on my new jacket, grab my luggage, and head towards the road.

Asta waves goodbye before heading back inside.