THE SKY IS a sharp, steel blue, each cloud outlined in crisp edges . I am under the arches of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, all stark grey against the cold sky, waiting for the airships. Lozenges of emerald, ruby, sapphire, and topaz drift across the sky, crisp and-
"Beautiful, aren't they?"
I twist around, because no one is supposed to speak to me first. That's not how it works. It's my experience of the airships in Paris.
He's attractive though, this stranger talking to me. Worth a closer look. His eyes are warm, soft. A peculiar golden colour unlike any other in this world. His hair is brown and something isn't quite right.
I look at the person on my other side, who also has brown hair. Every strand is delineated, sharp and clear. But this one, the one looking at me like I'm daft, his hair is soft, unfocused.
"You're staring," he says. Is he nervous? Is that possible?
"Are you real?"
He laughs. "Are you supposed to ask that? I've never done this before."
"Watched the airships?"
"Yeah."
"I've watched them before." Many times. I like the shapes and colours. But I've never seen anyone like him before. "My name is Ollie."
"Ollie. I like that. I'm Paul." He offers his hand.
As our hands meet, clasp, there's warmth, solidity. Static ripples across the perfect sky and Paul says, "You're... different."
Different from when? "We haven't met before." I'd remember. Someone like him. I let go his hand with something like reluctance.
"No, I know," he says, his words quick. "I didn't mean different from before. I... don't know what I meant."
"Okay." This is so new. I think I like it.
As Paul watches the airships, I watch him. "You're cute."
His head turns towards me, his eyes wide. "I didn't come here for a hook-up."
"Neither did I." Or did I? Maybe I did. Rx does things to the memory. I see things all sharp and clear, but remember them all hazy. I frown, staring at Paul, his soft golden brown eyes and soft hair. Is Paul a memory?
"This is... too weird." Paul says, breaking eye contact seconds before he disappears.
The Eiffel Tower is bright grey and dark outlines, all sharp edges as the jewel-toned airships float by.
YOU ARE READING
Little Talks
القصة القصيرةOllie lives in a world where isolation of the individual is preferred by the powers that be. He lives for his VR and the Rx that makes it hyper real, until he meets someone in virtual Paris who is more real than his own life.
