Vincent
The nickname had come from one of his friends before everything came crashing down. Somehow it had stuck with him after all this time. Even though Vince preferred his given name, he still answered to Vintage.
Even though that name came with a truckload of memories that he'd rather leave where they rested at the back of his mind.
Even though every time he heard it, he remembered how wonderful things used to be.
He'd always been the one who could lose himself for hours taking a piece of old tech apart and figuring out what made it tick. Anyone who knew him could testify that his collection of records was like his children: touch any of them, and you'd quickly regret it. When things were a bit calmer, he'd take a walk down the street to the old museum and wander through the dusty halls even though he'd been there so many times he had their contents memorized. Something about the ancient decaying objects calmed him. They served as a reminder that, somehow, things hadn't always been this way. There hadn't always been monsters in the streets at night and dangerous people around almost every corner.
Things haven't always been this way, Vince thought, but here I am.
An old soul in a broken city that was slowly falling apart.
YOU ARE READING
Sincerely, Vintage
Science FictionGears. Neon. Amber. Pigment. In a city broken apart by monsters and conflict, humans have managed to hollow out safe spaces for themselves. Among these people are four friends, each trying to find their own way to adjust to their new way of life. To...
