It had been a while since the last time Milo had hung out with all his friends, they had been busy after all. His friends that is. Milo was rarely busy.
Anyway, it had been a while since the last time, so Milo was quite excited when his doorbell rang. Livia was the first to catch his eye when he opened his apartment door, he couldn't remember the last time he saw her wear anything other than a suit. Simon was behind her, wearing the same thick rimmed honeypot glasses he had worn since they'd met.
There was also Cleo, who he'd recently learned was a (very) distantly related cousin when she sent him an ancestry test she had taken. She was very excited about the discovery. Ulysses was also there.
It was crowded. The lighting was sporadic. It was loud.
In truth, Milo didn't even like concerts; his friends did, and Milo liked his friends. He liked his friends enough to power through the constant cascade of bodies bumping into him. He liked his friends enough to ignore how every five seconds, he would go blind from a stray laser pointer. He liked his friends enough to not mind how the music was too loud to even hear.
Finally the last song had been sung, and the last string strummed, and Milo was free to leave. He and his friends were at the station one moment, and waving goodbye to each other the next.
***
Livia glanced over at Milo, then at her surroundings. The MonoCar was practically empty, a once in a blue moon event. She reached into her pocket and took out her lighter, shaking it. It was empty, which was to be expected, seeing as she'd been waving it over her head during the concert. She let out a sigh; lighters were becoming harder and harder to get a hold of these days, but she knew people.
She glanced over at Milo again. He was staring right back at her this time. "What?"
Milo pointed at the lighter she was holding. She handed it over, to which Milo promptly began playing with the spark-wheel. Livia tried (and failed) to stifle a snort.
YOU ARE READING
A City of Color: An Anthology
Short StoryI'm not very good at making summaries, but here's an attempt: The City is a place somewhere in the future, far enough along where a calendar would be meaningless. Sometimes it breathes, sometimes it shifts, and sometimes it doesn't exist at all. Thi...
