03; Strange Mercy // St. Vincent

Katherine set down the basket with a small grunt, stretching her back as if she’d just survived a marathon rather than a ten-minute walk from the car. She took a long look at the open field before her—the wildflowers, the soft sway of the grass, the annoyingly perfect breeze—and muttered under her breath, “Too peaceful. Suspiciously peaceful.” With a small huff, she knelt down to unroll the blanket, flicking a few stray leaves off it like they’d personally insulted her. When she was satisfied, she sat down cross-legged, brushing her palms together as though she’d just completed a particularly strenuous task.

For a while, she busied herself with organizing the food. Everything had its place, and Katherine made sure it stayed in its place. Sandwiches on one side, fruit neatly lined in the middle, thermos placed squarely at the corner. The arrangement was entirely unnecessary, but it gave her something to focus on—something that wasn’t the restless hum of her own mind. “If a monster or ghost or ANY paranormal activity shows up,” she muttered, eyeing the ground like a mother warning her child, “I’m ending this operation.” Her face stayed perfectly straight, though her lips twitched as if fighting back a smirk. The joke, Honestly, was ass but it was Katherine so it was mostly okay.

When she finally allowed herself to relax, Katherine leaned back on her hands, tilting her face toward the sun. It felt strange to sit still. Her shoulders itched with the absence of responsibility—no paperwork, no phone calls, no demon rearranging furniture in the lobby. Just the soft chirp of birds and the occasional flick of wind against her cheek. “This feels illegal,” she murmured, half to herself. “A working adult shouldn’t be this relaxed.” The humor was there, quiet and dry, but there was truth beneath it. The stillness was unnerving, and oddly comforting all at once.

A few minutes passed before she caught herself glancing at the food again. The sandwiches looked good. Maybe too good. “If this ends up being one of those ‘romantic surprise picnic’ horror setups, I’m haunting the living,” she thought, rolling her eyes at her own dramatics. She picked one up anyway, taking a careful bite and nodding in silent approval. “Well,” she thought, “at least I’ll die well-fed.” There was comfort in the simplicity of it—no expectations, no chaos—just her, the food, and a sky too wide to worry under.

The breeze grew cooler as the afternoon began its slow descent into evening. Katherine drew her knees up, wrapping her arms loosely around them. The golden light painted her face in warmth, softening the lines of stress that rarely left her. She watched the grass bend and shimmer, the rhythm of nature oddly steadying. “It’s been… a long time,” she thought, “since I’ve just sat still.” Her fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of the blanket. She could almost pretend the hotel didn’t exist. Almost.

As the sun dipped lower, she let out a quiet sigh that seemed to carry a week’s worth of tension with it. “Maybe this isn’t so bad,” she admitted silently. The stillness had stopped feeling foreign. The calm didn’t demand anything from her. No responsibilities, no ghosts, no expectations—just space to breathe. Katherine leaned back again, closing her eyes for a moment, and allowed herself a rare, fleeting thought: I could get used to this.