condemned [verb]: to express unfavorable or adverse judgment on; forbidden love. ✗❦
In a world adopted by astrology, Blake Rosenthal is separated from her family only at age sixteen, being moved into her Pisces faction to later prosper into adulthoo...
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BLAKE
The train ride was just under an hour long, and yet it felt like it would never end. After Zack and I engaged in small talk about our lives, we both grew quiet the closer we got to the Pisces faction. And by the time of arrival, I couldn't utter a word as we were let off.
Each faction was just about the same. A large, grand city referred to as 'Downtown', suburban neighborhoods with schools and sports for families to reside in, and an elderly community with retirement homes. We were expected to live similar life cycles—to grow and prosper in the city in our twenty's, meet our zodiac lover and settle down in the suburbs, start a family and later retire with the ones of our faction. And although it seemed endearing, it also sounded a bit discouraging. Our lives were like clockwork.
Zack and I parted ways at the train station, not after exchanging numbers to keep in contact. We had to settle into our apartments and figure out our first day as Pisces, but he promised to call me later tonight to meet up. And as nervous as that made me, I was also grateful. I made a friend, a genuine one.
I walked a few blocks and finally found my apartment building, but not after having to ask a local Pisces for directions. I pushed the front revolving doors open and brought myself inside the complex. The lobby seemed so much more futuristic than I was used to back at the Aquarian faction. The color palette consisted of whites and grays, which all tied together seamlessly. My parents were paying for the first few months of rent, until I could situate myself and my new job. I wondered how the hell either of us were paying for a place this nice and luxurious.
Anxiously, I stalked up to the front desk and fidgeted with the zipper to my coat.
"Hello, Miss. Are you a newcomer?"
The front desk lady had a wide smile plastered on her face. It was the fakest thing I had ever seen. If she smiled any bigger, her face would begin to tear. Her and the other receptionists had matching uniforms. They were sleek and modern and I felt intimidated already. It all felt so staged, so uncomfortably perfect.
I realized I was standing there, not saying a word like a fool. I coughed a little. "Uh, yeah, sorry."
"No worries," the lady said kindly. "Name?"
"Blake Rosenthal," I said, regathering my composure and standing up straight.
She tapped her fingers onto the keyboard, staring at the glass screen. After a few seconds, she nodded her head and reached below the counter to grab my keys. "Alright, Miss Rosenthal, here are your keys. We don't have any replacements on stock, so please take care of them. You're on the twenty-first floor, room number seventeen. The elevators are that way. Enjoy, and the best of luck to you on your new life!"
