Verse 5

I blinked.

She was still there, smiling, looking like she had all the time in the world to wait for my brain to restart.

“Elena,” I repeated, committing it to memory this time. “Right. Sorry about that.”

She laughed again—light, breezy, completely unbothered by my awkwardness. “You say sorry a lot. That’s, like, the third time already.”

Crap. Was it? It probably was. “Oh. Uh, sorry...” I stopped myself mid-apology, making her laugh even harder.

“It’s cool,” she said, nudging my arm with her elbow like we were already friends. “So, Davis, where’d you come from?”

I hesitated. The question was harmless, normal even, but it felt loaded in a way I didn’t know how to explain.

“Just… somewhere small,” I answered vaguely.

She tilted her head, eyes flicking over me like she was trying to piece something together. “Mysterious. I like it.”

Mysterious? I wish. I was just socially incapable of answering basic questions without combusting. Just somewhere small? What the fuck was that?

I came from a small town by the Indian Ocean. Nazzari, it was called. A small place with small people, a place where everyone knew everyone, unless you were me. I only knew a handful of people. Now I was here—in the capital. Bigger, louder, faster. The kind of place people from Nazzari only dreamed about. Neon city, the largest in the country and most populated. Neon city was where most people went to chase big futures. It had the country’s top universities—especially the University of Neon, where I was currently registering.”

I should probably have said all of this to Elena. Maybe later.

The line inched forward again, and we both shuffled along with it. I glanced toward the artificial pool nearby—small, square, with a waterfall trickling down over neatly arranged stones. The water was a deep shade of blue, reflecting the sky in ripples. I focused on that, trying to settle my nerves. I used to do the same thing back home, staring at the endless vast expanse of crystal blue waters. I would just listen to the waves crashing against the rocks and sand. It created a wonderful sound—the ocean’s lullaby. I lost count of how many times I fell asleep on the rocks above it.

“Hey,” Elena nudged me again. “You should come to the open mic thing.”

I turned back to her. “The one on this brochure?”

“Yeah. Should be fun. Unless you hate fun. Do you hate fun Davis?”

I made a face and she grinned.

“I don’t hate fun,” I muttered.

I do hate other things but fun I’m cool with.

“Then come,” she said simply. “No pressure. Just… think about it.”

She turned her attention back to the front of the line, but I caught her sneaking a glance at me, like she was curious about what I’d say.

And maybe—just maybe—I was curious too.