Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for language.
“Can I level with you right now? I absolutely hate the fantasy stories people come up with right now. Lusty teenage girls and boys pushed into post-apocalyptic worlds. Mythical creatures being slaughtered at the hands of a young male protagonist with magic powers, or kids in the suburbs finding love only to come across some uncanny twist to mix things up. The sad part is, is that they’re all written by middle-aged men with bachelors degrees. It’s as if they wanted to unsuccessfully transfer themselves into the past to half-assingly experience the dreams they’ve wanted to live out. It creeps me out in all honesty, yet nothing disturbs me more than that is its impact on today’s culture. Quiet girls write of the same unoriginal fantasy schmuck without even putting their own fresh twist to the whole thing, or suicidal loners heavily imply that they’re depressed as they write off a gloomy analysis of the world. It’s like there’s an overall moral decline in the West, and to top it off there’s a pure lack of real communication. Middle-aged white women continue to make snarky comments or vent, instead of trying to nurture real relations that could foster their needs. Conservative kids (not in a political sense) hide behind their screens. And have you noticed how group conversations usually go down? It’s usually a few people just talking, while the others act as commentators or stand silently to await their turn to speak. I think that’s social at all.” I half-yelled as to get my point across.
“You’re too cynical John.” Said the man sitting to my right on the curb with his expensive house coffee in a styrofoam cup. We had our ten dollar hoodies and sweatpants from the local Goodwill and decided to take a break from walking on our way home from the nearby café. After taking a sip, he followed up with his previous comment with a deadly stare, “Seriously, you’re too negative sometimes.”
“Wow, you really shouldn’t be so aggressive, especially since I spent five bucks on that coffee of yours. Besides, in accordance with the laws of society you being in debt to me makes you my bitch.” I replied with an equally deadly stare. “So does bitch wanna make me a sandwich.”
“You’re kind of pushing this to the extreme.” He silently retreated by facing away from me with his eyes towards the cup in front of him.
“You’re the one who instigated all of this,” I muttered. There was now an awkward pause between the both of us as we just faced forward staring at the night scene of the desolate streets. I took it upon myself to break the pause, “Hey Nicholas, in all seriousness how are you doing?”
“I’m sitting on a curb like a homeless man, in a poor attempt to be cheered up by my friend after witnessing the death of my grandmother.” He said in a monotone voice as our eyes connected once more. “How the hell do you think I’m doing John?”
“What the fu-“
“Well, you said she was loaded right?! You’re her only grandchild, so some of her money obviously has to go to you. Besides, you’re always thinking about numbers and such.” I quickly said as to justify my response to his question.
“She died of cancer, the poor lady was in pain for the past ten months. I'm supposed to be happy?!” He said in slightly more energetic yet annoyed voice.
“Well, fundamentally… you are a dick.” I responded.
He paused for a long moment, with his perfect…. Perfect brown eyes staring right at me.
“Oh, yea…” He finally said.
Silence once more hung over us, and we welcomed it. That very silence set the mood as we peered out onto the desolate street adjacent to us. On the other side, two handrails stuck out awkwardly indicating that were concrete stairs that lead out onto the sandy beach. No bioluminescence lit up the ocean nor did the moon for today was pretty foggy. You could still make out the movement of the waves with the light given off by the street lamps. Two of which stood a short equal distance from one another. The sound of the crashing waves would sometimes be interrupted by a passing vehicle owned by someone who just got off their job from a convenience store, but the smell of gas and evaporated salt water was always present. One noticeable rarity in this sight was the flotsam that was could only be seen if you focused your eyes really hard on it. It appeared to be a tackle box blanketed in seaweed. Fishing wasn't allowed on the sand itself, so someone must've gone out to the water and dropped it during an excursion. Either way, we just appreciated the view for as long as we could.
“You know John… I’m actually glad you got me out of the apartment. I’ve been kind of down all day, but… I’ll probably just ignore my problems once more until they lead me into an internal crisis.” He said with a shred of sincerity.
I took a moment to think of how I’d respond to his sentiment. I also wanted to say something genuine, but I then decided to just keep the conversation as casual as possible. “Yea, I’m glad we could share a cliché moment from a movie about two homosexual liberals.”
This time Nicholas responded with a chuckle instead of the usual comment. He decided to take my joke one step further and half-assingly wrapped his right arm around me. I didn’t mind though. It was in the mid-thirties outside, so the lazy hug helped counter the cold.
We took a while longer to admire the view, then Nicholas slowly stood on his feet. I did the same as well, and we went back to our apartment without exchanging any words.
Keep in mind that I wrote this at one in the morning in the timespan of an hour. Please give me advice on both my writing and life choices.
-Love, the author.