Pop 7

Olive stood alone in the cramped bathroom she shared with Petals,

staring at her reflection beneath the sickly yellow light.

Her wrinkled skin sagged like old parchment.

Her eyes, once sharp and unbothered, were now sunken and betrayed by time.

She leaned forward, adjusting the sagging band of her nightgown.

"Not just old," she muttered. "I’m prehistoric."

With a swift flick, she popped open the pill case hidden beneath the sink.

One capsule went down her throat.

Then another. And another.

By the time the fourth pill dissolved on her tongue,

she was already glowing.

Her skin tightened. The jowls vanished.

Her lips plumped.

Her cheekbones high and radiant, her hair thick and glistened like silk.

She glanced at the dusty clock radio on the counter.

"Five twenty-two," she whispered.

"Perfect. Twenty minutes of youth.

That’s more than enough to cause a scandal."

She fluffed her hair, marveling at her reflection.

Her skin was luminous, untouched by gravity.

Honestly? She looked better than she did in her twenties.

She looked dangerous.

Pulling out her pink flip phone, she hit speed dial.

“Hey, bubble gum,” Tristan’s voice chirped. “How are you?”

Olive rolled her eyes, smacked the gum in her mouth, and

snapped, “Ugh. Bored out of my skull here.”

Tristan chuckled. “Wanna join me? I’m heading to the Dean’s office.”

Olive raised a brow. “Dean trouble? Did you burn the college down?”

“Not yet. Tempting though,” he teased.

“Nah, just trying to convince my aunt—the Dean—to let me wrap up my incomplete clinical hours.

I wanna take the state nursing exam ASAP. And guess what? Our next batch of clinicals might be... your nursing home.”

Olive grinned. “Really? That means we can go legit. No more sneaking around

the halls like teenagers ready to burst their pants off.”

Tristan laughed. “What’s the fun in that? I like sneaking.”

Olive paused, biting her lip.

Then exhaled. “Okay... I gave it some thought. I think I’m ready to meet your mom.”

“For real? I thought you didn’t want more drama?

You know, meeting my mom means we’re now going official”

“Official? Well, that’s debatable, but for now, I figured out a workaround.”

She leaned close to the mirror, watching her youthful reflection pose like a beauty queen.

“Each pill gives me five minutes.

So if I pop, say... eight or nine? That’s forty to forty-five minutes of prime time.

More than enough to charm your mother.”

On the other end, Tristan suddenly stopped walking.

“Wait... Are you seriously planning to pop that many pills back-to-back?

Olive, we don’t even know what those things really do to you. I think that’s a bad idea”

Olive’s heart softened. “You do love me. You care.”

“Of course I do! I love you, Olive.

And I don’t want you pretending to be someone

you’re not just to impress my mom.

Trust me—I know her. She’ll love you for who you are, the same way I do”

Olive chuckled, but her voice softened.

“I’ll think about it. Just text me if you get the setup going.

Meanwhile, I gotta figure out how to sneak past security—

this place is basically a retirement prison now.

And that wretched Margarette is the new prison warden.”

Olive froze.

“Olive—wait, what—?”

The bathroom door creaked open.

Petals stood by the door, blinking in confusion.

“Olive...? Why are you so... young?”

Olive nearly dropped the phone.

Shit.

Petals rubbed her eyes. “What the—?”

That gave Olive just enough time for the last pill’s effects to fade.

Her youthful glow dissolved like sugar in hot water.

Wrinkles returned. Her boobs re-sagged.

Her hair back to the funeral mode.

Petals blinked harder. “I swear... I saw... you were young—”

Olive turned, expression annoyed but poised.

“Petals, hello? I'm using the bathroom. What happened to knocking and privacy, huh?”

Petals frowned. “No—I saw—you looked young. Like, Twenty-year old young.”

Olive walked up and wrapped her arms around her.

“Oh, honey. I think you’re having one of your dementia spells again.

I told you to go easy on those apple sauce, you’re not Ashton you know,

you don’t need those stuff for regularity, what you need though is..a man”

Petals blinked. “A man? and what will I do with him?”

Olive smiled, “I don’t know…maybe fuck him?”

“Olive Bloom!” Petals almost screamed. “Your language dear. I’m an 85 year old lady

and one thing I learned about life is that you don’t need a man,

that’s what carrots are for.”

Olive almost laughed, “Carrots? you mean the orange vegetable thingy?”

“Yes you heard that right Olive, I said it loud and clear, carrots are like a man,

you can stick them where you want them to be stuck.

Let’s not change the subject dear, I know what I saw...”

Olive smiled warmly, to Petals shocked, she quickly hugged her,

she brush a hand through Petals’ hair.

Petals closed her eyes.

She felt Olive’s sincerity.

“Petals, I’m sorry… I haven’t been myself lately. But I do want to spend more time with

you—like we used to. And whatever you think you saw… it’s okay.

Maybe I was young, maybe I wasn’t. I wish I were. But let’s just leave it at that.

No one’s wrong. No one’s judging. We’re just… us. Old hags with carrots on our pockets”

Olive quickly fished the carrot out of Petal’s pocket.

The both laughed.

She hugged her tighter. Petals felt like Olive’s choking the breath out of her.

And behind Petals’ back, through gritted teeth, Olive whispered silently to herself—

“Fuck.”