LÍO

آدم

Being named after the first human is daunting; having expectations, and an inflated sense of intelligence placed upon him from a young age, as a mere mortal was both daunting and unnecessary.

Just like the Prophet Adam sinned against his own Father, so did his namesake; falling from grace, exposed, shamed and hitting the mountain on the way down.

Now sitting at the bottom of the food chain, comfortably, he's found a way to numb the pain outside of his beautiful oasis. Smoking; a slow suicide, a painless descent from reality, fuelled by the addictive scent of nicotine.

Peering across the sidewalk, he lets out a groan. Despite it being sunny outside, he wants nothing more than to pull the curtains back across, crawl back under his covers and escape into a dreamworld.

Blue sky as far as the eye can see contrasts against his dull mood. The shadows spinning slowly with each passing second. Voices around him blend into his own thoughts, creating a cacophony of chaos. Screaming at him to stop. To retreat into obscurity. Become a child of darkness.

But he resists all that. He has to, in order to appease the truce that he made with his parents. Homelessness isn't top of his agenda at the moment, despite the fact that his Dad has a temper that's explosive and messy like homemade dynamite, and a brick wall for a Mama.

It's not pretty when they collide. Especially in the middle of the night when he tries to sleep. Or when he's immersed in the depths of another emotional magnum opus, nearing completion, only to be slammed back into the reality of the situation surrounding him.

It's a painful cycle which he hopes will end abruptly, sooner than it has begun, but not late enough for him to lose his sanity. Completely.

Leaning back into the chair, he tries to make himself cosy; it's nice but a bit rickety, and has a cold metal frame attached to it that chills his fingers when he accidentally touches it.

In the midst of the moment, he doesn't recognise the figure overshadowing him. Looking up, he almost jumps up. The figure laughs:

"Can I join you and watch the world burn?" she asks, sitting down beside Adam on the spare chair.

"No, but you can have a cigarette..."

"Thanks."

Adam nods. "No problem, Luz. Is your shift ending now?"

Luz shakes her head. "I'm on until six. How about you?"

"Nine. I'm just waiting for my pay check because we're all broke back home and my Dad's not very happy."

"When is he ever happy?" Luz adds with a scoff, lighting the cigarette up.

"Probably never, no idea. I can't read his mind."

"How's Zara?"

"Alive, breathing, somewhere in one of her fashion classes enjoying life." Adam sighs, exhaling the last of his own cigarette before stomping out the butt on the pavement. "All the things I can't do."

"Well, at least you're still alive right?"

"Physically, yes. Mentally and spiritually, no."

"You're still numb?"

Adam doesn't nod back. Instead he turns around to face her and looks her straight in the eyes. "Yes, I am."

"At least you're not dead. Yet," she adds, noticing that his eyes appear slightly more watery and red than they normally do, "did you get much sleep?"

"Of course not. I was out at Marco's party."

"How is he?"

"We had a falling out."