Lavinia began to come over often on Saturdays, and urged me to come outside, and to socialize. I honestly didn’t see the point, but I consented, allowing her to take me on a trip to the market.

“You can’t have your food just delivered to your house through order all the time. It’s suspicious.” I trailed along slowly behind her, arms crossed, baseball cap pushed onto my head, ponytail swinging in the back. I felt uncomfortable. It had been ages since I wore jeans, and they felt tight and my movement constricted. The sun glared at me from above, and I dragged my shoes along the cement like a little child, not wanting or enjoying the walk. Lavinia walked way out in front, not even noticing me lag behind. In the end, she hadn’t even noticed, and gone through and bought all her groceries and returned to my house before realizing my absence. I wasn’t that shocked, though I was annoyed. It wasn’t her fault, I guess. It’s not that she was a forgetful person; I was just the type of person to be forgotten about.  I didn’t need her to escort me through the town anyway.

            I trudged along, watching the busy people swarm around the like a river. I was the boulder, and they parted behind me, merging back again in front. Large grey buildings with lots of windows stood on either side of the road, creating shadows in which we all walked, cold and humid. I silently thanked myself for wearing jeans. It was hot where the sun was, but down below where we trod beneath the feet of the incorporations, the cold seeped up from the asphalt. I decided I would walk all the way up the railroad station before turning around. It was interesting, seeing how everything had progressed, or regressed, since I was out and about before. Clothes went out of fashion and back in, old restaurants were replaced or deserted, and local trinket shops taken over by larger businesses. I walked with my head cast downwards, subconsciously stepping on the cracks that cut the sidewalk into neat little cubes, not really a part of the world but a spectator.

            The railroad station was old. Concrete was used sparingly, and most everything was made of wood, and whitewashed. Sheets of metal created a shelter from light rains, and the guard sat in a foldable metal chair in the corner, hat askew on his head, dozing off. A map was painted onto the ground, telling the routes of the train, and several people were gathered on top, seeing at which station they must get off. I knew that once the sun began to slip over the horizon, when the sky turned into a blend of lilac, apricot, and coral, people would escape from their cubicles and amass here, packed like sardines, home on their minds. I imagined Mr.Moffet among them, standing a head taller than most, glancing down at his watch every so often, periodically smoothing his short sandy hair down. Some would be reading newspapers, or pretending to, not really registering the words but simply trying to look important, and some would be on their cell phones, asking what dinner was, or talking to their kids. But right now, as I stood there thinking all these things, there were only five, a group of tourists, judging by the brochures they held, that had just toured the Temple car factory. No, I corrected myself. There was another, a sixth, sitting on one of the two benches that lined the wall, nose stuck in a book. I recognized it as White Fang.

            Most other people would have assumed that it was just a new book, or one that a less famous author had written. I knew different, however. I looked at him closely. He had distinct, sharp features, a fair complexion, and hair the color of midnight. He seemed average in height, and weight, with long fingers. His hair was medium length and spiked, and he wore thick black glasses. I could count two ear piercings on the left side. The suit that he wore was grey, with a white, unblemished shirt and red tie. He seemed intent on his reading, eyes rapidly flickering across the sentences, one hand ready to flip the next page, the other resting on his chin. I looked closer and saw the telltale black crescents that spoke of sleepless nights. I couldn’t believe my luck in finding another on my first day outside again. Someone coughs behind my shoulder. I quickly avert my gaze, as if I were just interested in the station, and I hear the cough again.

“Yes?” I ask, turning around. It’s a lady with so many shawls wrapped around her body she looked like a moving hamper. Colors clashed in a fervent battle, and her face poked out in between, wrinkled and sagging. Her grey eyes stared into mine, and I felt uncomfortable, which caused my palms to perspire and my legs to fidget.

“It’s rude to stare at people, you know.” She said in a watery voice. Not waiting for an answer, she shuffled off down the street, to nowhere in particular, it seemed. I watched her shamble off for a few moments before running up to the station, skipping the steps two at a time to reach the platform. I walked up casually, and sat down next to him. He didn’t stir. He had a finger on his lips now, and his eyebrows seemed to be knit together. I leaned back and titled my head so that I was looking over his shoulder at the page he was reading.

I shifted closer, and though he shifted in his seat, leaning a little away from me, he seemed not to care. I coughed into my fist, and glanced over at him before coughing again, louder this time. This time his eyebrows unknotted and settled over his eyes, which seemed annoyed. He had a small frown on his thin lips.

“Did you need something?” He asked. His voice was soft, and had an accent to it. I nodded, and smiling knowingly, raising an eyebrow, I pointed at the book. His eyes widened, but only for a fraction of a second. He closed the book and slid it into his jacket pocket.

“You took that book from the library.” I whispered. No sense in beating around the bush. His gaze remained fixed forward, and his face moved a little, his lips pressing close together, as if contemplating something.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you know what I just said.” He looked around with his eyes, and turned toward me.

“How do you know? Are you going to arrest me or something?” I could see him wringing his jacket sleeves in his hands. I shook my head, and half smiled at him.

“No, I’m not going to arrest you. And, I know because, well, I did it myself once.” He looked me up and down.

“No way.” He breathed. “I thought I was the only one. I mean, you know. Wow. What a coincidence, huh?"

“Yeah, like something out of a book. Now we just have to join forces and save the world or something. What made you do it?” I said. He laughed.

“Curiosity, I suppose. After hours and hours of doing all that cleaning and stuff, it’s pretty hard not to want to just take a look.”

“I have to agree. I wonder why they don’t make robots do it?”

“I haven’t thought of that. That’s a good question. And you, ho-“ He was cut off by a shrill whistle, followed closely by the sound of the train approaching. He stood up, and held out his hand to me. I took it and we shook hands. “I have to go. Let’s talk though.” He reached into his breast pocket, and handed me a small business card. “Call the second number, that’s my home phone."

He rushed in the doors at the last minute, and the train was off, steaming down the tracks. I saw the train off until its red disappeared into the monotonous grey of the buildings. I smiled to myself, still in disbelief at the luck I had. I really should get out more, I thought to myself. I wandered around town a bit after that, taking in the new sights, smells, and feels of the place. When the night finally encased the town and the clock indicated it was well after kids were being tuckered in for sleep, the lights began. First, there was a flicker here, and a flicker there, and, as if in answer, the city began to stir and come to life around me. It was almost beautiful, the neon, luminescent flowers attracting us to the wares, trying to ensnare us. I steered clear of the shady areas- the places that drunkards were roaming around, where alcohol permeated the air, and where girls shambled about in close to nothing, that is, no clothes, no dignity, no money, and no hope. I almost felt for them.

            I was approached a couple of times by some drunks looking for a good time, and a stern no, and, if pressed, a good shove and a turn of my heel often kept them at bay, laughing and waddling off to find some other unfortunate girl. I hadn’t really thought of my apartment as a haven, but after all the excitement of the day, it seemed rude to call it anything but. When I entered, Lavinia was still there, sitting on the sofa. She got up quickly, looking at me guiltily. She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off before she could utter a single syllable.

“Thanks for getting me out there, Lavinia.” I said. I hooked my fingers under my sweatshirt and pulled it over my head. I sniffed it. “Ugh. Old people smell.” I threw it onto the sofa, following close after, falling face first into the cushions.

“I got you some food.” Said Lavinia, and I could hear her shuffling towards the door. “I have to go now, the kids will be worried.” The door creaks open. “Bye Atlas.” I lifted my hand and waved.

            I lay there just enough to calm myself, before getting up to throw my sweatshirt into the hamper. I caught myself before I did, though, fishing out the card from my deep pockets. The city smell of tobacco, alcohol, and pollution had permeated into the fibers of the card, but it remained crisp and white, with tiny black print marching across.

Direction Inc.

56849 Songsparrow Rd.

Golden meadow, Virginia 20148

(W) 887-283-7758

(C) 887-685-1165

Vonne Silver

Vice president

I set it beside my lamp on my desk, and picked up my pen, nibbling at the tip thoughtfully. I knew it was going to be a productive night. I put the nib onto the paper and wrote.