The Tranquility Anthology

=She Looks Like Fun=

Alex was the boyfriend to the famous socialite Arabella Murphy.

Or rather, he used to be, until two weeks ago.

His mind bore itself to death with this fact as he slumped over the sleek black counter-top of Tranquility's coveted Lunlumo Bar.

The circular shape of the bar allowed for three-hundred-and-sixty degree views all over, encased within a hexagonal-framed glass dome for guests to admire the vast expanse of black.

Tonight, the bar was the host to a rare and most spectacular meteor shower. People were beginning to clamber in one-by-one, a stage being set up for special event lounge singers. No one was on the streets back on Earth, as the hotel moved the event online.

This stupid event, and the rest of Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino, had been why Arabella and Alex were here in the first place.

She was all he'd ever known. Wake up, Arabella, going out, Arabella, crawling under the bed covers, Arabella. Spotting any girl with remotely auburn hair, Arabella.

Happiness only seemed to switch on for him when Arabella was nearby.

Every social event, he was conjoined to her hip, but he revelled in every microsecond of it. Being hers was second nature to him, impossible to think of any other universe that held him without her.

So of course, when her job required her to pack up her bags and reside in the hotel for the better part of a year, Alex easily dropped every commitment back on Earth to...

...Spend time stood around in bars, waffling on to strangers about martial arts and how much he respected them; there was nothing else socially acceptable enough to talk about after a while.

"Penny for your thoughts, Alex?" Came a young man's voice, clear and amiable.

Alex looked up to a familiar employee, Mark. He bit the inside of his cheek at the absolute cheek of this bow-tied bartender.

"Please," he seethed, "as if you don't already know what I'm wasting me brain space on."

Alex's vision trained on another couple on the other side of the bar, one he'd only recently seen strolling together around Tranquility's airlocked walls.

So much hope and infatuation in one another's eyes, Alex almost felt it right to imagine driving a pointy stake through each of their loved-up heads.

"Okay, alright. Miss Murphy. I'm just asking how you are, mate, about all of it," said Mark, idly rubbing a spirit glass with a cloth like any stereotypical bartender.

Alex grumbled. "Oh wonderful, in't it? Finally. I come from one place where through cloudy skies, I told people all of me thoughts, all of the time, and now, I can share with you every whimsical thought that enters my mind." He snapped at Mark.

Mark was a gentle fellow, his life rarely problem-riddled, so he found it easy to hear others' plights. He especially liked hearing the problems that troubled the social elite like Alex.

"Oh jeez, you're breaking into verse again. Want me to make you something?"

"No," said Alex curtly. But Mark knew customers who never needed to drink their problems away rarely came to Lunlumo.

He went to make Alex's favourite, something tropical with a straw in it.

And instantly, like someone pressed a switch on Alex, his mood lightened with the first sip. He even let out a small smile, something a nice drink like that was able to do to him.

"Hey Mark?" said Alex, coming to meet his eyes with Mark's.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck you," he said with a chuckle and gesturing to the drink, causing Mark to smirk a bit.