Sincerely, Vintage

Part 2

Derrick

Derrick's head vision resembled an impressionist painting. The colors of each energy source swirled around one another in the darkness, blaring neon against his eyelids.

He stayed in his hiding place between a garbage bin and the alley wall, eyes closed, until the oily purple cloud moved on and the monster's tail flicked out of sight around the corner.

He stood up and let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He thought that he'd be used to the monsters by now, but they still set him on edge. As he walked, he dusted himself off, checking his reflection in a dirty shop window as he passed.

Even before all this had started, Derrick had found joy in putting together outfits using what he had. He'd learned to be resourceful after countless trips to secondhand stores with his mother. She'd always amazed him with her ability to make a classy outfit out of the simplest clothing. Even though she was gone, he tried to carry on their tradition.

Although Derrick never would have admitted it himself, he cut quite the dashing figure as he wandered through the streets. He'd paired his usual olive trench coat with a dark t-shirt, jeans, and a weathered pair of leather boots. Fingerless gloves completed the look.

Fog had descended overnight to soften the rigid edges of the buildings. At this time of morning, everything still had a dreamy cast to it, the rising sun turning the clouds a sorbet orange.

As Derrick turned a final corner, an alleyway came to life in front of him. It was a quiet assembly, but the mixed palette of jumbled food scents and vibrant energy surrounded him like a warm blanket. Vendors had set up makeshift stalls on either side of the passage, their tiny tables and chairs competing for space. Everywhere he looked, he saw people: people talking, people laughing, people lost in thought or cooking. As he made his way through the crowd, the nuances of their emotions pushed against his consciousness. He usually made an effort not to pry, but sometimes his ability became a more detailed form of people-watching. He wondered about their stories and what had caused their emotions. 

The cloud of energy dispersed as he reached the end of the street. A neon sign flickered on the wall, its arrow pointing to the door of a small cafe. The gentle aroma of coffee greeted him at the door. Soft music crackled through the speakers as he glanced around the room. The dim light made it easier for him to pick out the people scattered across the space, particularly the group glowing at the corner table in the back. Despite the distance, he could easily make out one of the people, bright yellow, sitting in the booth. Like the sun breaking through clouds, the person stood up, blinding Derrick with their light as they turned to face him.

They were waiting for him.